


Sorry, we missed you...

by iwantsaturdaynow (eclipse_0206)



Series: Of pastries and ice skating [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Baker! Viktor, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Phichit is extra, Skater! Yuuri, Social Media, Viktor is a patissier, Wingman Phichit Chulanont, Yuuri still figure skates, product placement, so does phichit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2018-12-22 07:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 64,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11962377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclipse_0206/pseuds/iwantsaturdaynow
Summary: In which there is an exchange of packages and mail, Phichit strikes up a friendship with the bakery downstairs, and Yuuri vehemently refuses to fall for the temptation of the perfectly baked chocolate chip cookie (and fails. multiple times).





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a package is not delivered, Phichit strikes up a deal, and Yuuri is skeptical.

“Yuuri!”

Yuuri raised his head from where he was scrolling through his phone. Phichit had just walked through the front door of their shared apartment, pouting at a slip of paper clenched in his right hand.

“You missed my Amazon package.”

The Phichit-mournful-gaze-of-betrayalTM  was turned full power at Yuuri. As a true testament to the years of their friendship, Yuuri simply reacted by flicking a thumb over his phone screen, liking the 45th picture of a poodle on his Instagram feed. It took him months to become fully immune to that stare ( _the journey of getting there was long and wrought with hardships and bad decisions and things-not-to-be-spoken-of-ever-again)_ but once it happened, he had never really looked back. He set his phone down.

“I’m sorry?” That came out more as a question. Yuuri cleared his throat, trying for more sincerity in his voice. “Sorry, Phichit. I swear I didn’t hear the doorbell ring.”

“And I told you that the doorbell was broken!” Phichit wailed, plopping himself down next to Yuuri on their $300-Ikea-sofa. “Why weren’t you camped outside our doorsteps waiting for my package?!”

“Stop being extra. And also, the doorbell is not broken.”

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s not!”

“It so is!” They both glared at each other, Phichit’s gaze challenging, and well, Yuuri never turned down a direct challenge. He was competitive. And petty.

Ten minutes later, they were back on the sofa after running downstairs, Yuuri with a little smug smirk on his face, and Phichit’s pout evolving to its second form.

“Fine. You win. It doesn’t change the fact that I still don’t have my package. Stupid delivery people! They probably filled this stupid ‘Sorry we missed you. Dot, dot, dot’ slip from their stupid delivery van without even getting out of the car and ringing our stupid doorbell!”

“Technically, they wouldn’t have been able to give us the notice, if they actually didn’t get out of their vans but...I gotcha.”

Phichit sulked in silence, staring at the yellow delivery slip. Yuuri went back to scrolling through his phone, missing the moment Phichit’s eyes lighted up as he finished skimming over the barely visible small print on the back of the slip.

“Yuuri, look!” Phichit shoved the piece of paper at his face. Yuuri automatically pushed it away, staring at it in confusion.

“What am I looking at?”

Phichit pointed at one particular line, jabbing his finger multiple times at it. Yuuri was afraid he might poke a hole through it.

“Erm…your package slash packages has a C.O.D. due—“

“No! This one—” Phichit jabbed his finger at the paper again. “It says here, ‘Your package was left at Neighbor slash…Other _,_ ’” Phichit dropped his voice at the last word and did a weird wiggle movement with his fingers. Yuuri didn’t understand his friend sometimes.

“O-kay? You don’t expect Mr. and Mrs. Smith to be taking care of our packages, right?” Mr. and Mrs. Smith were the cutest married couple that lived above them and were the owners of their small apartment building. They were also, probably, over a hundred years old, ( _they weren’t but they might as well be with the speed at which they walked down the small narrow steps of their building .Yuuri was late multiple times to his ice skating practice because he was stuck behind them and too polite to shove his way through)_.

“No, Yuuri, my dear child, of course I don’t expect them to do that. See this mysterious ‘Other’ category? We can ask the bakery downstairs to help us with our packages!”

Maybe it was worth explaining that their apartment was right above a coffee shop and bakery called _Stammi Vicino_. Every day on his way to the ice rink, Yuuri had to battle himself not to fall for the temptation of the thousand pastries that the shop was selling from the wee hour of the morning till the wee hours in the evening. He emerged stronger every day from those battles. Like a battle hardened gladiator. Like his ancestors — honorable samurai of the old times _(his family was descended from a proud line of merchants but whatever)_. Over time he no longer salivated like Pavlov’s dog at the scents wafting from the store, but he liked staring into the shop on his way back from practice, seeing all the customers enjoying their food and drinks in the comfort of the cozy cafe. He actually had yet to take a single step into the shop since they first moved into their apartment about one and a half months ago but it did not stop him from dreaming of the day when he would be able to step through the doors of heaven and eat without worrying about his diet.

“Are you sure they will be fine with it? Are you sure we are fine with this? What if they turn out to be package thieves? ”

“Won’t know until we try,” Phichit threw over his shoulder as he ran out of the apartment.

Yuuri sat on the sofa, staring at the half-open front door of the apartment. He caught the sound of the downstairs door slamming shut. He let out a sigh, getting up. Phichit tended to elicit this kind of reactions from him but Yuuri was used to it.

He raised his arms, stretching out as far as he could. He then bent his upper torso to the left then did the same to the right, finally, bending downwards, forehead touching his knees, palms flat on the floor next to his feet. He stood up and shook out his legs and arms.

He stifled a yawn behind his hand, the whole day of training finally catching up with him. He was running through the mental list of leftover ingredients in their fridge, trying to decide what to make for dinner, when there was another slam from downstairs followed by the thumping of one hundred elephants on the stairs before Phichit burst back into the apartment, shutting the door. He didn’t wait for Yuuri to say anything, disappearing into his own bedroom. He returned with three tiny hamsters nesting on top of his head and shoulder and his special Hamtaro stationery in hand — the one Yuuri got him from Japan when he last went to compete in the NHK Cup".

Yuuri quickly snapped a picture of Phichit bent over the notepad with the three hamsters doing cartwheels on his head. He sent it to Phichit before throwing his phone back on the table. _(“I am so proud of you,” Phichit said later over dinner, wiping a fake tear from the corner of his eye, while uploading the photo onto his Instagram and crediting @katsuki-yuu)_.

“So, what did they say?”

“They were totally fine with it,” Phichit said, continuing to write in the notepad. He finished the note with a flourish tearing out the paper and passing it to Yuuri for inspection.

Yuuri held the piece of paper while Phichit took the UPS delivery notice and signed it at the back. He read the words out loud.

> Dear USPS/UPS/Fedex/Other Magical Delivery Person.  
>  Unfortunately, our doorbell is not working properly ‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚.  
>  But we really want our packages! (ﾉ≧∀≦)ﾉ.  
>  Please kindly deliver all parcels to the bakery next door, ‘Stammi Vicino’.  
>  Thank you. (｡-人-｡)  
>  Phichit & Yuuri from Apt A.

"What do you think?”

“That I should have never introduced you to kaomoji?”

“Yuuuuuri.”

“Looks okay. I guess. Are you sure _Stammi_ is fine with this arrangement?”

“Yes, I talked to the owner. Well, the son of the owner and he was very happy to be helping, and I quote, his lovely American neighbors, unquote.”

“Phichit, we’re not American.”

“Details. And…he is totally your type! Tall, beautiful, eyes blue like the ocean, you should talk to him.”

“Phichit,” Yuuri said with a note of warning.

“Fine.  Just you wait. You two will be dating by the end of the year and adopting one hundred and one labradoodles by the time next winter rolls around. Anyway, what’s for dinner?” Yuuri sighed.

“I think we have enough ingredients for Pad Thai—“ Phichit pumped his fist in the air nearly dislodging his hamsters from their respective perches.

“You need to help me though.”

“Will do. Let me just go downstairs and tape this to the door.”

“What did you order from Amazon, anyway?”

“Three-level hamster cage with two slides and a small pool.”

“Phichit!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first YoI! fanfic. Currently without a beta reader.
> 
> Please feel free to give me suggestions on how to format dialogues, paragraph, and also grammar.
> 
> 9/3/2017: Minor edits.  
> 1/1/2018: More edits.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phichit swears off Starbucks coffee for forever, mail is misdelivered, Yuuri encounters a Russian and barely manages to avoid the temptation of a chocolate chip cookie.

Yuuri was winding down from his morning practice when Phichit strolled into the room, a duffel bag over his shoulder, and a coffee in hand. Yuuri skated past his spot on the bleachers, turning up his nose and sniffing. Just slightly. _(From the cold. Not derision. He wasn’t a tea snob, of course he wasn’t)._

Both Yuuri and Phichit followed a strict diet. Most of the time. However, certain things were not meant to be given up on: like Yuuri’s celebratory _katsudon_ , or Phichit’s Friday morning Starbucks coffee _(or the occasional chocolate chip cookie, or the bowls of unsalted, low calorie popcorn during their Netflix binge watching nights, or midnight pizzas eaten beneath their blankets when they were still living with Celestino)_.

Yuuri was not a morning person. If he had a choice he would sleep in until noon, every single day. But Yuuri was also diligent and disciplined. So he dutifully rolled out of bed every morning, ready for another day of training. That’s just who he was.

Phichit was also diligent and disciplined. But Phichit could not function properly before 10 a.m unless he, (a) had at least one cup of coffee _(as black as my soul, Yuuri)_ , or (b) was tempted out of the bed by promises of hamsters, cute things, or raunchy gossip. The thing is, coffee was definitely not in their diet regime, and even Phichit knew that drinking it every day would build up his immunity. So most days when he had to attend morning practice, he powered through with the sheer force of will, after watching fifty Youtube videos of hamsters doing cute things. On those days he was always three seconds from biting everybody’s heads off, literally and figuratively speaking, including their coach’s.

So Celestino struck a deal with him. For the safety of everybody involved, Phichit’s weekday practices were moved to late mornings. On Fridays, he was required to be in by a moderate 8 a.m. time slot but was also allowed to indulge in one cup of coffee. Yuuri was not jealous of the special treatment his friend was getting. Not at all.

Yuuri finished a few more laps around the ice, catching the occasional glimpse of Phichit as he was warming up on the side of the rink.

“Yuuri, you can get off the ice and do some cool down exercises,” Celestino shouted at him.

“Yes, coach!”

After putting on his skate guards, he waddled over to Phichit, who although already in his skates, was trying to take an artful shot of his coffee cup next to his gym bag to, most likely, upload to his Instagram, ( _Later that evening Yuuri did end up liking phichit+chu’s photo with the caption “small happiness. Thanks @StammiVicino for the great start to the weekend #coffeelover #stammivicino #figureskating #iveseenthetruth”)_.

“Hey Phichit-kun,” Yuuri said tentatively, ready for the incoming explosion.

“Yuuri! My sunshine, my wonderful roommate, my brother from a different mother. How are you this fine morning?” Phichit responded with a one million kilo-watt smile, turning back to his phone. Yuuri shielded his eyes from the glare of white teeth, bewildered. Even drunk on coffee, Phichit was never cheerful in the morning. So the grin that he sent Yuuri was just… _wrong_. And, wait a second, was he actually humming?

“I'll bite. What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s 8 a.m. You're smiling. And you are happy. Is the world ending?”

“You wound me, Yuuri. Last time I checked, ‘happy’ was my middle name. I’m a happy person.”

“Not before eight, you aren’t,” Yuuri grabbed the paper cup sniffing at it. “Is this thing spiked? Wait, hold on a second. It’s not Starbucks.”

Phichit took back his cup with a swipe of his arm, took a large sip from it, exhaling afterward in bliss with a dreamy smile on his face.

“Phichit, get on the ice!” Celestino shouted at him from the other side of the rink.

“Five more minutes, Ciao Ciao!” he turned back to Yuuri. “This morning, I have seen the wrongs of my past. Your future husband—“

“Who?!”

“—the beautiful Russian baker, Yuuri, I thought I told you. He showed me what real coffee is. Not the awful brew that Starbucks sells that’s basically coffee flavored water,” Phichit shuddered.

“No, see. This—this right here,“ Phichit raised his cup high in the air like in The Lion King, “—this is coffee in its purest and most perfect form. The nectar of gods bestowed upon us mere mortals. It’s so good, so smooth, so—“

“Phichit!” Celestino’s voice was gaining a hint of murderous intent.

Yuuri gently pried the coffee cup from Phichit’s hands before he could spill it all over himself, setting it back down on the bench.

“Okay, okay. I get it. Starbuck’s coffee is bad, and _Stammi’s_ is good. Does it mean we won’t be going to Starbucks anymore?” Yuuri hoped that wasn’t the case. He got pretty passionate about Starbucks pastries. They were horrible. But their flavored ice refresher teas were really good. Plus Kyle, the barista with the 12 to 4 p.m. shifts on the weekends was really cute and took an effort to remember both Yuuri’s and Phichit’s names. And! He knew how to spell them correctly. That guy was a keeper. Okay, he was getting distracted.

“No Yuuri, of course not. I still need my occasional Frappuccino fix and you need your Kyle ogling fix.”

“What?”

“What?” Phichit repeated feigning confusion.

“Phichit…” Yuuri said in a warning tone.

“Oh, look at the time,” Phichit said getting up. “Gotta start practice. _Ciao ciao_ , Yuuri.”

Yuuri stopped the strong urge to trip Phichit up. Skates were sharp and he didn’t want anybody to accidentally get hurt. It didn’t stop him from daydreaming about it, _(But your Honor, you don’t understand. He deserved it)_. He sat there looking at Phichit as his friend leaned against the rink wall while taking off his skate guards. He then eyed the innocent looking cup of coffee. It did smell pretty heavenly when he took a sniff from it earlier. But Yuuri didn’t care much about coffee. He was a true tea connoisseur. Still, for Phichit to sing such praises about the brew. And to make him smile before ten o'clock – Yuuri shook his head, finally switching to his regular shoes.

 _Be strong, Yuuri. Be strong_ , he repeated to himself going through his cool down stretches.

* * *

“Phichit…”

His friend hummed in acknowledgment without looking up as he tore open a packet with a facial mask.

Yuuri had just trudged back from a late night training session at the ice rink. He was still refining his Free Skate, playing around with jump components. On the way up to the apartment, he grabbed a packet of envelopes jammed through their mail slot without looking through them. He was now standing at the door, only one foot out of his shoes while rifling through the mail. He chucked the credit card offers and other junk mail into the bin kept solely for that purpose next to the front door. He then set aside the ice skating magazine that Phichit and he collectively subscribed to, the grocery store circular with discount coupons, subscription notice for Ballet Detroit, and stopped at a plain but official looking envelope addressed to _Stammi Vicino_.

“Phichit,” Yuuri repeated.

Phichit let out an explosive sigh from where he was sitting on the sofa, head leaned back and a face mask over his face looking like a ridiculous snowman _(That was a lie. Yuuri didn’t know how Phichit did it, but he actually looked good wearing them. Proven by the 1,100-and-counting likes on his Instagram picture he’d just posted 2 minutes ago)_.

“What, Yuuri? You’re interrupting my ‘me’ time.”

“There is a letter to _Stammi Vicino_ in our mail.”

“So, go give it to them.”

“But—“

“No buts. They help us with our packages. The least you can do is to give them back their mail.”

“But they are all _your_ packages!”

“Details, details.” Phichit did the universal sign of dismissal by waving his hand at Yuuri. Yuuri vowed to hide olives in their meal next time he cooked. Phichit hated olives.

“Can’t you do it?” Yuuri tried one more time. “You’re friends with them.” He hated meeting new people. Besides, he tried so hard to avoid the bakery and their one thousand sinful temptations masquerading as delicious and beautiful pastries. It was easier to do so when one did not actually have to see them up close in all their glory behind the window display. Yuuri was a weak man.

“Pretty please?” he added, using his patented Yuuri-cannot-do-anything-wrongTM voice. But just like Yuuri was immune to Phichit’s gazeTM, his friend learned to ignore the pleading, kicked-puppy voice that Yuuri perfected back home in Hasetsu.

“Nice try, my friend. Not going to work. Besides, this—“ here Phichit waved his hand over his face, indicating the face mask, “needs to stay on my face for the next 15 minutes so that my skin can fully absorb the moisture. It’s important.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes, immediately dropping his kicked-puppy act. He shoved his feet back into his shoes.

“I hope you get wrinkles,” he muttered under his nose.

* * *

When Yuuri cracked open the door to the bakery, he was greeted by the sweet sound of a chime and the mouth-watering smell of baked goods and coffee _(Of course the store had a chime. It’s obviously a ploy to condition everybody who enters it. Yuuri was doomed)_. Taking a first proper look around the store, he let the door close behind him.

The place was somewhat small but cozy looking – the shop going for the whole rustic look with wooden shelves and counters and a few circular, wooden tables and chairs strewn around. Across from the entrance was the main counter with a glass display to the side showcasing all the pastries that the store was selling. Behind the counter, Yuuri could see a metal door that he assumed led to the store’s kitchen and backroom. Slightly above and to the right of the kitchen door was a paint-on chalkboard with the menu written up in clear handwriting. Finally, the walls on both sides of the shop were lined with shelves; the one on the right filled with books, the one on the left filled with a mix of jars, small burlap bags, and glass contraptions. Looking closer Yuuri thought he recognized a few coffee brewing tools, which probably served more of a decorative purpose than anything else.

He hesitantly approached the counter.

Behind it, Yuuri could see a slightly shorter male with shoulder length blond hair, half of which was put up in a messy ponytail. He was calmly wiping down the espresso machine with a serene look on his face. Yuuri slightly marveled at his angelic looks. He took a moment to wonder if this was the handsome Russian that Phichit was talking about before. Because if it was, he had to have another talk with his friend about who was and wasn’t his type. _(After the whole frat party fiasco of 2012, Yuuri learned that Phichit needed the occasional reminder in the form of power point slides. Which also gave them a legitimate reason to ogle at pictures of celebrities. Yuuri had a whole deck dedicated to Kaneshiro Takeshi)_. His eyes caught on to the large glass jars on the counter, still half filled with cookies. _Were those chocolate chip?_ His mouth watered slightly. Maybe he could…indulge in one later? To reward himself for what he was about to do.

He cleared his throat quietly, then, a bit louder.

“E—Excuse me?”

“Huh?!” Yuuri became the receiver of the most terrifying glare to ever be directed at him. Gone was the angelic look replaced by a full-blown grimace and, oh gods, why did he look like he was trying to decide whether to punch him? When the other man turned to fully face him, Yuuri couldn’t help but look him over once more, his eyes first catching onto the multiple earrings in his left ear, then the few tattoo lines poking out from under the collar of his shirt and even more peeking out from under his rolled-up sleeves. Tattoos and earrings didn’t intimidate Yuuri. But the glare and the challenging voice certainly did. In a blink of the eye, the blond was up at the counter leaning slightly forward into Yuuri’s personal space.

“What do you want?” he growled out, a slight accent discernible in the way he pronounced his “w”. Yuuri jumped back with a meep.

“A—”

“Talk louder.”

“Mail!” Yuuri shouted, shoving the envelope at the other man.

“Huh?!”

“It was delivered to m-my – our place. Next door. We’re neighbors? I guess? I’m Yuu—actually never mind who I am. Haha, I thought I would deliver this to you. Since you, know, it kind of looked important,” Yuuri’s voice trailed off at the end of the sentence. He was so going to ignore all the mail for Stammi Vicino from now on, misdelivered or not. Or make Phichit deliver them next time.

The barista ignored his rambling, tearing open the envelope. His eyes skimmed through the contents of the letter, gaze turning murderous by the second until he slammed his fist down on the counter turning his head towards the kitchen.

“That Old Man. I told him to switch to electronic billing. But does he listens to me? No, of course he doesn’t. And now we have to pay a penalty for missing a bill. We’re living in the 21st century! Automatic payments are a fucking thing.”

Yuuri couldn’t help but agree, “Yes, they are the best since you don’t have to worry about missing a due date.” All of Phichit and Yuuri’s utility bills were synced up to their credit cards and set up for Auto-pay. Because they were both usually busy with school, training, traveling and competing, neither of them could spare any extra time worrying about paying bills on time.

“Exactly!” The barista nodded emphatically before catching himself. “Who asked you for your opinion?!”

Yuuri shook his head multiple times, nearly giving himself a whiplash.

“Nobody! Nobody asked me. I will…just go. Now. K, thanks, bye.” Yuuri hightailed his way out of the bakery, not stopping until he was safely inside his room with Phichit’s hamsters cuddled against his chest. He didn’t get the chance to buy a cookie in the end, and he needed all the comfort he could get after the encounter with whom he now dubbed, the Russian Punk.

 _Oh lord_ , Yuuri thought. The bakery must be a cover for the Detroit branch of the Russian Bratva. That would explain why a punk like that was working at the coffee shop. Oh no, did they put _drugs_ in their coffee? Was—was Phichit an addict now?! Because, what else would have made Phichit swear off Starbucks coffee for the rest of his life? ISU is so going to find out the next time they do their medical screening. Phichit is going to get disqualified and Yuuri will forever be known as the person who did nothing to stop his friend from straying from the path of goodness. Celestino will be devastated, going back to his hometown in Sicily to live out his days in shame.Yuuri scrambled into his bed pulling his blankets over his head.

And what about _Stammi’s_ food? Is that why all their pastries smelled so delicious? Because they were choke-full of illegal substances?!

“I’m never stepping foot in that bakery ever again,” Yuuri vowed to himself, the three hamsters lightly gnawing at his hair and ear.

He grabbed his phone, messaging Phichit from under the safety of his blankets.

> Yuuri: phichit-kun, you need to stop drinking coffee from stammi. it’s drugged! the bakery is a cover for the russian mafia （ΟΔΟ；；）
> 
> Phichit: HUH?! Σ(゜ロ゜;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing just writes itself. I need to get back to studying -.-
> 
> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> 9/3/17 & 9/23/17: Minor edits + formatting


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which diets are not followed, Yuuri tries to find his eros, and Phichit is a little shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, after doing some extra research about the Yuri!!! On Ice timeline I had to make some minor changes to the previous two chapters. Really small ones, mostly related to timing. You don’t have to go back and reread them.  
> I’m trying to keep this fic humorous, but things get slightly serious in the middle.  
> Anyway, more notes at the bottom. Hope you enjoy this chapter :)

The Grand Prix Qualifiers were slated to begin at the end of October, with Phichit scheduled to attend Skate America in Hoffman Estates, Illinois, and Yuuri to be whisked away to Kelowna, British Columbia to compete in Skate Canada a week after.

Leading up to their first assignments, they trained every day until Celestino had to forcefully eject them from the rink to properly rest.

On one particular day, however, Yuuri left earlier on his own volition, leaving Phichit behind arguing with Celestino about putting all his jumps in the second half of both of his programs. This was right after Phichit asked if Yuuri could pick up his packages from _Stammi._ Yuuri ran away before he could be blackmailed into doing just that.

After getting home, Yuuri plugged his phone into the dog shaped music speakers they kept in the kitchen ( _another of Phichit’s needless but adorable purchases)_ and started preparing dinner. Which involved throwing a few chicken breasts into one pot and chopped up broccoli into another.

After KAT-TUN’s [_Love yourself_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pGvBtPh7ZT8) ended _(Yuuri refused to admit that he had the dance memorized like the back of his own hand),_ the theme for his free started in the chillingly beautiful notes of the piano. Yuuri swayed to the music, doing a mental run through of his program. Not even a minute later he was actually doing it in the middle of his kitchen. In the midst of a rather complicated step sequence, there was a slam from the outside, announcing Phichit’s return. He ignored the sound, finishing a spin and seamlessly executing a single jump.

“Yuuri!” Phichit burst into the kitchen still with his coat on, three packages tucked under his arms. He stopped short at the sight of Yuuri doing an arabesque with a wooden spoon held in hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Yuuri straightened up, turning back to the now boiling pots.

“Never mind that,” Phichit set down his packages onto the kitchen table. He all but shoved a small white paper bag at Yuuri, nearly smashing it into his face. Yuuri shoved him away but not before catching a whiff of something delicious and sweet.

“Phichit, no!”

“You have to try this!”

“You’ll ruin your dinner—” “Worth it!” “—that’s not the point!”

Yuuri turned off the stove before they accidentally burned down the kitchen and leveled a glare at his roommate.

Phichit stared back at him. They stood there, staring each other down silently until Phichit slowly reached inside the white bag. Without breaking eye contact, he pulled out— a cookie? Yuuri watched as his friend slowly took a bite out of it, his eyes comically rolling back in his head, an obscenely loud moan escaping his lips. Yuuri threw the wooden spoon at him, face reddening.

“Phichit!”

“I’m not even exaggerating. You _have_ to try it!” Phichit shoved the cookie at him again. Yuuri swatted his hand away, his eyes, however, involuntarily followed the cookie.

“Where did you get that from?”

“From _Stammi_ , of course, where else.”

“I told you not to go there anymore. It’s dangerous!”

“And I told you that you are being ridiculous. If you had met Viktor like I told you to, you would know that he is the silliest man there ever was. Russian mafia,” Phichit scoffed. “He gave me this for free.”

 _That’s how they get you,_ Yuuri thought. First, they give you free stuff, then you find yourself saddled with an addiction and a million dollar debt. Phichit took another bite out of the cookie. He then handed it over to Yuuri.

Yuuri swallowed, eyes staring at the inviting treat.

“Just one bite, Yuuri. You won’t regret it.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m your friend. I know how hard you have been working. And I think you deserve a reward. And what is a cookie in the grander scheme of things? Just one bite, Yuuri. That’s all it takes.” Throughout his whole ridiculous spiel, Phichit kept coming closer and closer, waving the hand holding the cookie in slow circular motion. Yuuri’s eyes followed, completely hypnotized and under his mercy. So when Phichit said – Open up – his mouth readily obeyed.

Phichit pushed the cookie into his mouth.

Yuuri was embarrassed to say that the moan that escaped him sounded even more obscene than Phichit’s.

“Wha—what is this thing?” Yuuri asked in wonder.

Phichit looked smug, “I told you so.”

* * *

Yuuri considered himself a dime-a-dozen figure skater. One of many certified by the JSF. This didn’t change the fact that he still wanted to win – win all the gold that the world had to offer. To prove to himself that the years spent alternating between training, then crying, and then training some more were not a waste and that they actually amounted to something real.

He wanted to win for his family, his kind parents who still didn’t understand figure skating, yet supported him from the very beginning. For Mari who never complained about being left behind. For Minako-sensei who was the first to introduce him to the sport, for Yuuko and Nishigori who encouraged him throughout the whole process. He wanted to win for Celestino, who spent the last six years coaching him. But mostly, in the darkest depths of his mind, he wanted to win for himself, to maybe finally quieten down that voice in his head that always said that he was nothing.

But to win nowadays meant executing jumps after jumps after jumps. So Yuuri kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing, until Celestino finally pulled him aside at the end of last season in which, even after everything, he could only reach silver.

“Yuuri, I understand how it might be frustrating not to land as many quads, as say, Cao Bin, but you have to stop before you hurt yourself.”

“But coach—“

“Let me finish. Don't you think you end up hurting your score more by messing up your jumps at critical times?”

Yuuri winced. Celestino was right. Yuuri could land most quads during training sessions, but had a pretty abysmal track record during the actual competitions where it truly counted.

Celestino sighed, “Sometimes, it’s best to stick to what you’re best at. And Yuuri, _your_ strength is your musicality. Your interpretation and step sequences are out there; better than anyone else’s in the world! I’m sorry, I failed you this season—“

“What, coach! No, you didn’t fail—“

“I did,” Celestino's smile didn't reach his eyes. Yuuri thought he could see regret in them. “I got side tracked, focusing only on upping the technical difficulty of your performances, especially after seeing you land a quad flip in training. But I think it was the wrong approach. We should have focused on both things. So I want to make a promise to you. Let’s work together to create the best choreography this year, and prove to everyone that TES scores are not everything.” Yuuri still didn’t look convinced.

“Please trust me on this, Yuuri.”

And Yuuri, reluctantly, did.

He spent the next few weeks trying to think of a concept for the new season. Celestino was, surprisingly, giving him a lot more creative freedom than in the past. Yuuri couldn't fully appreciate it since he just felt stuck. He became even more frustrated when Phichit managed to come up with a theme, music, and even costume ideas within two weeks of his own conversation with Celestino, leaving Yuuri in the dust.

Inspiration struck likea  bolt of lightning and came from a cooking channel, of all things.

On one of his rare days off, Yuuri was mindlessly channel surfing when he caught a glimpse of a very handsome man, right before the camera cut to what he was doing with his hands instead. Yuuri’s finger stopped over the remote button, his attention captured instantaneously by four of the most beautiful desserts he had ever seen. Yuuri absentmindedly set down the remote, grabbing the closest pillow on the sofa and crushing it close to his chest.

“My theme for this year is love,” an accented voice narrated as the camera zoomed in on the fluffiest soufflé to ever exist on the surface of the Earth being pulled out of the oven. “There is a theory that there are many types of love, and I wanted my desserts to capture that.”

“This here,” the narration continued, “is _Agape_ , what usually is translated as unconditional love. Used specifically to illustrate the unconditional love of God. And, well, I’m not very imaginative,” here the chef laughed and Yuuri was _floored_. He watched mesmerized as the chef grabbed two small forks gently pulling open the center of the soufflé, “—God makes me think about clouds and angels. Hence the vanilla crème anglais and“ —he picked up a dainty but intricate white chocolate shaped wing, and placed it standing on top of the soufflé— “this.”

Next, came a close up of a sinfully beautiful chocolate ganache cake.

If Yuuri wasn’t distracted with wiping away the drool from the corner of his mouth, he would have been mesmerized by the blue gaze of the chef and his beautiful smile. What he did notice, however, was the graceful hand holding a silver spoon, scooping up some dark melted chocolate from a bowl and drizzling it in graceful circular motions over the cake. “This one is, of course, _Eros._ Or passionate love, if you will. Doesn’t dark chocolate just scream 'sexy'?” the voice chuckled out.

The door slammed open and Phichit burst in ( _can’t he just come in calmly like a normal person for once, Yuuri wondered_ ). Yuuri quickly grabbed the remote and turned off the TV.

“Hey Yuuri.”

“Hi Phichit,” he squeaked out.

His friend looked suspiciously between him and the TV a few times. Yuuri could practically see the cogs working in Phichi's mind, his grin getting larger and larger by the second.

“Oh Yuuri, you dog. It’s still bright outside,” he waggled his eyebrows, disappearing into his room right after.

Yuuri looked after him in bewilderment.

He didn’t get his friend sometimes.

* * *

The next day, Yuuri met up with his coach and pitched his idea to him. Celestino listened attentively, nodding in all the right places, encouraging Yuuri to spill out all his darkest secrets _(not really)_.

After Yuuri was done, Celestino leaned back in his chair, sending Yuuri a scrutinizing looke. He finally smiled. 

“Wonderful!” he simply said and Yuuri ducked his head, his cheeks warming up at the attention but not stopping him from smiling back.

They worked together on the free first. Yuuri wanted to skate something that could encompass _agape_. Celestino brought up one of his older free concepts, the one about the progression of his skating career, and Yuuri readily agreed to have that as the interpretative portion of the skate. What more could _agape_ mean to him than his love for ice skating? But the more he thought about it as they worked out the details of the program, the more he realized that _agape_ was so much more than that. It was his love for ice skating, yes. But it was also his love for the people that brought him there. Minako-sensei, Yuu-chan, Takeshi. His mother, father, Mari, Phichit, and Celestino. It was the love of the people that freely gave but wanted nothing in return. But Yuuri did want to give them something back. And the only thing he had to offer was his skating.

When asked about the music, Yuuri recalled how a few years ago he had a piece commissioned from a friend, coincidentally, for the same season that his free concept came from. He never ended up using that song, his coach finding it a bit lacking in the three main factors of performance: heart wrenching, exciting, and _umf (whatever the hell that meant_ ) _._

But Ketty was happy to redo the arrangement, now with four more experience in music composing than before. What she came up with at the end met the seal of approval of both Celestino and Phichit.

Sometime in mid-July, his coach pulled him aside again.

“Yuuri, would you consider changing the theme for your short program?” Yuuri furrowed his brow.

“Why?” After some discussions around the short, they both settled for a different take on a _gape_ , this one showing his love for…himself. It wasn’t supposed to be the narcissistic type of love. Self-care, confidence, but also innocence were a few key words thrown around when they were brainstorming ideas. In that sense, it wasn’t so much as _agape_ as it was _philautia_. Yuuri wasn’t exactly ecstatic about it but he couldn’t come up with a better idea so they settled for that.

“When you first brought in your concept, I loved your idea of portraying different kinds of love. I know we both agreed on conveying different facets of _agape_ , but what if you do your short program to a different type of love altogether?”

“Which one?” Yuuri asked.

“Eros, of course”

“What?!”

“Hear me out. Eros has the _umf_ factor I’m looking for,” ( _Again what the heck was umf????_ ) Celestino continued ignoring Yuuri’s shell-shocked look. “Nobody would expect you to dance to something that says ‘sexual love’ right? I think the audiences and judges will love it. Coincidentally, I already have a piece of music in my mind that would work perfectly for your SP.”

“N—no, no, no, coach. You’re making a big mistake. I can’t do this.”

“Yuuri,” Celestino cut him off, setting his hands on Yuuri's shoulders. “I believe in you.” He then turned him around and gave him a light push between the shoulder blades. “Go find your _Eros_!”

* * *

Phichit, obviously, was of no help. After Yuuri recounted his conversation with Celestino to him, he rolled on the floor laughing for about five minutes.

“Oh, I cannot wait for this season to start,” Phichit said shaking with excitement. “I get to skate to the music from my favorite movies. And I also get to see you do an interpretive dance about _sexual love_ in front of millions of people, live and on international TV!” Yuuri groaned.

“How am I supposed to convey _eros_ , anyway?”

“Yuuri, you have it in you. I know it!”

Yuuri was touched by the genuine conviction in his friend’s voice. 

“I mean look at this—“ Phichit quickly scrolled through his phone. He then pressed he play button, and handed him the phone.

Yuuri stared at the screen incomprehensibly for a few second before letting out an inhuman scream and throwing the phone across the room.

Phichit shouted in indignation, running after it.

“I thought you deleted that video! Delete it, right now!” Yuuri screamed, feeling his face turn red, completely mortified. If anybody asked, Yuuri would vehemently deny that it was him _(It was filmed under duress, before the time of his full immunity from the Gaze TM_).

Phichit pouted at him, caressing his phone. “But I _did_ delete a video.”

“Then what was that?!”

“A different one?” his friend answered innocently.

Yuuri flopped back down onto the coach, his face in his hands. Phichit let out a loud sigh. When Yuuri looked back up, Phichit was showing him his phone screen again, this time with a message ‘This video will be deleted. This action cannot be undone.’ Yuuri watched as his friend pressed the ‘Delete Video’ button.

“Better?”

Yuuri nodded.

Phichit sat back down next to him.

“Yuuri, I wish you would believe in yourself as much as other people believe in you,” Yuuri looked at him skeptically. “You have plenty of _eros_ in you. Celestino wouldn’t make you do something he didn’t think you couldn’t pull off…..You just – you just need to find it in yourself and let go.”

“Come on,” his friend continued, “what’s _eros_ to you?”

Unbidden, the memory of the cooking program resurfaced in mind.

_“This one is, of course, Eros - sexual love. Doesn’t dark chocolate just scream ‘sexy’?”_

Yes chocolate was sexy. Chocolate chip cookies were sexy. You know what else was sexy? Yuuri got lost in thoughts of food and didn’t notice as Phichit pulled up his camera and started filming his reaction. 

From a physical point, he was not even close to _eros_. What exactly was _eros_ , anyway, besides sexual love? Eros was what causes you to lose the ability to think. And, well, for Yuuri the thing that caused him to lose all rational thought…for him that was _—(When he later watched the video, Yuuri could see the exact moment the light bulb went off in his head. If only it didn’t)._

“—katsudon! Eros to me is katsudon!”

There was a moment of silence before Phichit started laughing hysterically, his body shaking so much that he dropped his phone.

And because when Yuuri thought that things couldn’t get any worse, the video went viral.

 

> phichit+chu posted a video
> 
> **2,056,700 views**
> 
> **phichit+chu**    @katsuki-yuu declares his love for katsudon. looking forward to the 2014 season
> 
> #katsukiyuuri #phichitchulanont #katsudon #eros #whatiseros #food porn #lookatmelikeyuurilooksatkatsudon #gpfigure14 #grandprix
> 
> View all 1,243 comments
> 
> **yuuri-fc300** This is gold!
> 
> **kenjiro_minami** I wish sempai would look at me like @katsuki-yuu looks at katsudon…
> 
> **sukeota3sisters** <3 <3 <3
> 
> **Katsuki_Mari** lol

* * *

Two days later during practice, Yuuri nearly died impaled on his skates when Celestino shouted at him, “Yuuri, try to imagine entangling more of the egg!”

Needless to say, Yuuri tripped mid-step sequence, followed shortly by Phichit who fell mid-jump because he was laughing so hard.

Yuuri hated his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more notes: 
> 
> Celestino’s shout at the end is of course what Viktor told Yuuri in episode 3. Yuuri’s eros-to-katsudon thought process comes from the same episode.
> 
> Fun fact - #gpfigure is ISU’s official hashtag for the Grand Prix events.
> 
> I used both [lazuliblade’s](http://lazuliblade.tumblr.com/post/153162723488/the-year-in-yuri-on-ice) and [ yurikobutachan ](https://yurikobutachan.tumblr.com/timeline) _(bless this fandom)_ analyses to figure out the timeline of YoI. You might have noticed that I changed Yuuri’s Tournament line up. Phichit and Yuuri will still be competing in the Cup of China, but I decided to switch things up a little and have Yuuri attend Skate Canada instead of the Rostelecom Cup. In my opinion, the reason why Yuuri got picked for Rostelecom in the main series was because it took place in Moscow, thus giving his coach the reason to go back to his home country and for Yuri to be with his Grandpa. But with neither Viktor nor Yurio being Yuuri’s competitors in this AU, I thought there really was no reason to keep the line-up the same. Since in the original series, Yurio competed in Skate Canada, I decided to replace him with Yuuri. Which worked out really were for this fic. 
> 
> Quick google search showed that in 2014, Skate America took place in Hoffman Estates, Illinois, and Skate Canada in Kelowna, British Columbia. You learn something new every day, dontcha.
> 
> You can pry this HC from my dead body - Yuuri is a die-hard KAT-TUN and Arashi fan.
> 
> So…Yuuri finally encountered Viktor in this chapter. Kinda. Let me know your thoughts. Until next time :)
> 
> 9/23/17 & 10/17/17: minor formatting edits + mention of Cao Bin in one of the dialogues instead of Chris


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is some ice skating, Yuuri misses his package and resigns himself to going back to the mafia stronghold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this chapter! The next one should be coming out soon :)  
>  _Italics – conversations in a different language, conversations through the phone, and also whenever it felt like the right place to use it_

When their costumes first arrived at Celestino’s, Phichit insisted on holding a photo shoot. Yuuri being a good friend that he is, agreed to be the camera man, patiently taking picture after picture as Phichit’s poses got more and more ridiculous. About an hour into the impromptu photo shoot, Phichit changed out of his SP costume ( _a very princely outfit in red and gold)_ into his Free costume _(classy white suit with blue edges that was essentially a cosplay of Arthur from ‘The King and the Skater II’)._ Yuuri continued to dutifully take pictures, Celestino having given up a long time ago as he sat back and read a sports magazine.

After expertly scrolling through the camera roll and deleting any bad takes, Phichit was ready to post a few of them to his different SNS outlets. Their coach sensing the impending doom grabbed the phone out of his hand and didn’t give it back until he had Phichit promise not to release any of the pictures until _after_ Skate America. Phichit gasped, horrified, ( _but Ciao Ciao, what’s the point of waiting till after Skate America?!)_ pulling out the big guns and turning his GazeTM towards Celestino, who didn’t even deign it with a reaction. Here was a comrade-in-arms who had to go through his own battles to build up his immunity to the GazeTM.  Phichit pouted, finally promising not to post any of his pictures, _so please could Celestino give him back his phone now, k, thanks, bye._

Then they both turned towards Yuuri ushering him to the spare bedroom that was currently serving as a temporary changing room. Yuuri took out his SP costume from its bag, taking the first proper look at it. He let out an involuntary gasp.

The last time he saw the costume was for his test fitting when only the main outfit had been ready— still without any of the decorative elements and embellishments. The final product was nothing like the demo, and looked even better in real life than as a design on paper. He carefully put it on, the costume fitting like a second skin. He turned around and looked at himself in the full-length mirror, sliding his hand over the see-through mesh and the sparkling gems. He made the fabric at the side of his hip flare up and flutter, watching some of the red fabric peek out from the underside.

“Yuuri! What’s taking you so long?” he heard Phichit’s muffled voice through the closed door.

Once he walked out into the living room, he did a whimsical twirl in front of Phichit and Celestino. And then just for the fun of it, seamlessly moved into the opening sequence of his SP.  

“How do I look?” he grinned excitedly. Both Phichit and Celestino simultaneously pulled out their phones and snapped a few photos, comparing the results. They looked at each other with a serious expression and nodded as if sealing a deal.  Yuuri looked on confused. Phichit took a few more pictures after helping Yuuri sleek back his hair with some gel. Yuuri could hear him muttering under his nose, _my smol son, all grown up, must protect him from vultures_.

Yuuri didn’t get his friend sometimes.

On the side, Celestino was talking animatedly over the phone ( _Isabellla, cara mia! You outdid yourself this time with the costumes)._

Looking over the photos later Yuuri felt…confident. Dare he say, sexy? He didn’t feel like himself. He felt—good.

Once the SP costume ( _now christened “OMG THE EROS!!!! Costume” by Phichit)_ had been carefully stowed away, Yuuri changed into his free outfit. Compared to the other one, his free costume could be considered plain. It was made up off a black, tight fitting button up shirt and black pants. It was simple; boring even. That was only until the light hit it at the right angle and the edges of his sleeves and pants as well as the back of his shirt lit up like a thousand stars on a summer night— a breath-taking galaxy.

It went without saying that Yuuri and Phichit loved their costumes very much. After changing out of them they tackled Celestino into a group hug and didn’t let go for a long time.

* * *

 

> **Save as draft?**
> 
> [selfie of Phichit and Yuuri in their free costume, face squished together, grinning happily]

* * *

Yuuri didn’t consider himself superstitious, especially when compared to some of the other figure skaters he knew of. Some for example always ate the same thing the day of competition, going so far as to bring their own food and prepare it themselves instead of eating the breakfast provided by the hotel. There were others who said that they had to put on their costume in a certain way and order, otherwise they would bomb their performance.

Yuuri’s pre-competition routine was pretty much only limited to two things. 1) Keeping his earphones on until the last possible minute. 2) Having an _omamori_ from his family somewhere on his body.

Without fail, his family would always have one ready for him before the skating season started; although this year’s hadn’t arrived yet. Two weeks before Skate Canada, he was talking to them via Skype, itching to ask about it. Through the video feed he could see the dining room of the onsen, with both his parents and the Nishigori family crowding around the table with the laptop. Behind them, off to the side, he could see Mari looking amused.

The triplets, excitable as always, were talking to him, asking thousands of questions without really waiting for him to answer. After a few very personal ones, _(Do you have a girlfriend? Do you have a boyfriend? Is Phichit your back-up plan?)_ Yuuko karate chopped them over their head until they cried. She and Nishigori dragged them all away, not before sending him a grin and a _‘good luck, we know you can do it, Yuuri-kun/Yuuri’_. He was touched.

That left him with only his parent and Mari, who took the vacant spot before the laptop.

“ _A-ano, I wanted to ask if you guys had the chance to mail, you know…”_ he trailed off.

 _“We got you, Yuuri-kun. Papa went to pick up a charm from your favorite shrine yesterday.”_ Yuuri felt all the tension in his body leave with his next exhale. They chatted for a while longer before Yuuri noticed Mari checking the time. He decided to wrap up the call.

 _“Make sure to rest and eat properly, okay?”_ his mom said. _“We’re so proud of you. Good luck!”_

At the last moment, Mari’s face returned to the screen. _“Oh, one more thing. Mom threw in a few more things with the omamori. By a few I mean we had to stop her from packing the whole AEON market in that box. You should receive a package in the next week or two. I’ll text you the tracking number later, ok? Ganba!”_ The call disconnected.

Yuuri stared at the screen blankly before slapping his forehead. He would have to make sure to camp out in front of the apartment to get the package now. No way was he going to step foot in that bakery ever again.

* * *

Yuuri religiously tracked the progress of his package, watching as it moved from Hasetsu to Fukuoka and then boarded the plane to San Francisco before switching to USPS ground service once it hit U.S. soil, where it proceeded to move at a snail like pace through California.  

As Phichit was packing for his trip he looked at Yuuri with a small amount of pity.

“You know that refreshing the site every few minutes will not make the package move any faster, right?” The glare Yuuri sent him had him miming zipping his lips and throwing away the key.  

On Thursday before Skate America, Yuuri helped Phichit carry his suitcase down the stairs while Celestino waited in front of the apartment next to the cab. Once the bags were all loaded in the trunk of the car, Yuuri dragged his best friend into a hug.

“ _Phichit-kun, ganba,”_ he told him before letting go.

His friends grinned at him. _“Khorb Khun Krup, Yuuri.”_

Settling inside the car, Celestino pulled down the window to talk to him one last time.

"We’ll be back on Monday. Make sure to rest and eat properly, ok? And don’t overdo it in training,” his coach told him. “No unsupervised jumps–I mean it!”

Yuuri smiled innocently and gave him a wave. Celestino looked wholly unconvinced.

“Take care of my children!” was the last thing Phichit screamed out of the window as the taxi cab sped away.

Yuuri proceeded to break all three of his coach’s suggestions within the next four days, in no particular order. He was on his third run through of his free program after practicing the quad-loop for a while when his phone alarm blared through the empty ice rink, cutting of his theme music. Yuuri skated over to the rink rail and checked the time. He had to head back to his apartment if he wanted to make it in time to watch Skate America.

Rushing back home, he forgot one very small but important detail.

United States Postal Service® “Sorry We Missed You!” notice cheerily greeted him upon his return. In all the excitement, he forgot to keep track of his package that, somehow, managed to make it to Detroit from Iowa City, Iowa within the span of five hours since he last refreshed the website. Of all the times for USPS to deliver things ahead of their estimated delivery date.

Yuuri chanced a nervous glance over to the bakery, the lights still on inside, then back to the notice…Well, Phichit was coming back on Monday. And Yuuri wasn’t flying out until Wednesday so...Yeah, he will ask Phichit to deal with this. Feeling a little bit better about his situation, Yuuri ran up the stairs taking two steps at a time to set up the Live Stream. And maybe pop some low calorie popcorn in the microwave. Yeah, that sounded like a good plan.

* * *

 

> _katsuki-yuu posted a picture_
> 
> [picture set: Phichit in his final pose of the SP, Phichit in his final pose of the Free, Phichit on the podium with a bronze medal]
> 
> Liked by **phichit+chu, cialdini.coachofficial** and **1,456 others**
> 
> **katsuki-yuu** witnessing dreams in the making. congratulations to @phichit+chu for the bronze medal at Skate America. Hope you keep inspiring generations to come
> 
> #shallweskate #skateamerica14 #gpfigure #thatsmybff #proud #thailand
> 
> **phichit+chu**!!!!  <3 <3 <3 ;( ;( ;( #shook #bff #seeyouatcc14
> 
> **YK-fanboy13** omg the bromance
> 
> **v-nikiforov** congratulations @phichit+chu!!! Stop by for some celebratory coffee! On the house :*
> 
> View all 354 comments

* * *

"Yuuuuuurriiiiii, sorry I won’t see you before Skate Canada. Celestino is making me stay with Leo and Lara but I’ll cheer you on from this side of the border. Ganba ＼＼\\(۶•̀ᴗ•́)۶//／／"

“You can’t do this to me,” was the first thing that spilled out of his mouth once Phichit accepted his FaceTime request.

 _“Well, it’s good to hear from you too, Yuuri. How are you this morning? I am fine myself, thanks for asking,”_ came his friend’s response.

“Why aren’t you flying back to Detroit?” he ignored his friend's sarcastic tone.

_“Celestino doesn’t think I can take care of myself while you two are gallivanting in Canada. So Lara, you know, Leo’s coach, offered to take me in for a few days since they were going to stick around Illinois anyway before flying out to China.”_

“B—but, Phichit—my package…You can’t do this to me!” Yuuri repeated.

His friend was understandably confused before his face morphed into a look of exasperation. “ _Yuuri, if this is about your Russian mafia conspiracy theory again, I swear on my hamsters that I will hang up on you and not speak to you for the rest of my life…a week…three days—until you arrive in Canada!_ ”

Yuuri pouted falling silent. Phichit stared back at him without sympathy.

“But _drugs,_ Phichit! No cookie should taste _that_ good—“

“ _Ok! I’m hanging up,_ ” Phichit shouted over him before he cut off the connection.

Not a second later, a string of message came through one after the other.

_“Make sure to feed my kids.”_

_“And drop them off at mr and mrs smith ok?”_

_“Oh, and don’t forget my packages either. I ordered some more deluxe hamster chow from amazon.”_

Yuuri was undeniably doomed.

* * *

Yuuri stood inside the door to his apartment building, now holding on to the USPS notice and another letter to _Stammi Vicino_ that got delivered sometime in the past 24 hours. Seemed like the Universe was bending over backwards to have him return to the bakery.

_You can do this, Yuuri._

Immediately after stepping out of the door, Yuuri was greeted with an unnaturally warm October weather. He started immediately sweating under his bulky coat, beanie hat and the thick scarf he hastily wrapped around his neck. He adjusted the face mask over his mouth wondering if the disguise was a good idea after all.

A couple who just stepped out of the coffee shop took one look at him before turning around and speed walking away in the opposite direction. Yuuri felt himself flush. He ran back upstairs throwing off his disguise and changing into his lighter sports jacket ( _Phichit’s ridiculousness must be rubbing off on him)._ He stuffed the letter inside his pocket and rushed down again. Before he could change his mind, he let the momentum carry him right into the coffee shop, the chime above the door ringing his funeral rites.

Yuuri took a look around the cafe. The first thing he noticed was that the Russian Punk wasn’t manning the coffee machine today ( _thank God_ ). The second thing that registered was that the place seemed unnaturally packed, a few college kids in Wayne State hoodies sitting around a bunch of tables pushed closely together. Yuuri felt himself relax slightly. Hard to kidnap or murder somebody in front of witnesses, right?

He walked up to the counter, eyes straying briefly to the cake display ( _why where they so gorgeous),_ before landing on the dark-haired barista that had just finished ringing up a customer.

_I dub thee ‘Dark-and-mysterious.’_

The man turned his dark gaze to him. Similar to the blond, Yuuri could see some of the tattoos on his forearms peeking out from under rolled up sleeves.

“Hello, what would you like to order?” his voice was slightly accented but surprisingly soft and smooth and washed over Yuuri like warm, hot chocolate.

 _Abort. Abort._ His mind supplied unhelpfully.

His eyes involuntarily slid down to the jar of cookies before going back to the other man who stared back at him impassively.

“Yes?”

Yuuri objectively knew that he was being ridiculous. Phichit was right. Maybe he really was going overboard with this conspiracy theory. Subjectively though, he was so deep into it that he couldn’t do anything other than to roll with it.

“Hi—I live next door. Was wondering if you haven’t seen any packages for us?”

Yuuri watched as Dark-and-mysterious wordlessly leaned down to look beneath the counter. He disappeared for a brief moment coming back with a towering pile of boxes, slamming them unceremoniously on top of the counter.

“Your name?” he asked.

“A—Yuuri Katsuki...and there should be a package—or ten for Phichit Chulanont. I think.”

Otabek stared at the labels on the packages a bit longer and then at Yuuri, his gaze scrutinizing, before pushing them towards him.

“I think you might want to split this into more than one trip.”

“I think you are absolutely right.”

Yuuri took the top few boxes and carried them out first. One of the patrons kindly held the door for him. With one hand holding the boxes and the other reaching into his pockets to take out the keys, he was reminded of the enveloped he hastily jammed in there. Yuuri let out a mental sigh. He dropped the packages inside the foyer before going back to the café.

Dark-and-mysterious was looking at something on his phone. He briefly looked up when Yuuri came in but otherwise seemed pretty content to leave him to struggle under the weight of all the packages. Yuuri did catch him looking back and forth between the phone screen and Yuuri again, his gaze still assessing. Yuuri grabbed a few more boxes, repeating his trip before coming back for the last box which going by the kanji all over it must have been the care package from his family.

“Sorry, there is one more thing. This“–he slid the envelope over the counter towards the barista ( _and wasn’t this such a shady move)—_ “got delivered to our apartment.”

The other man picked it up looking it over.

“Thank you. Are you sure you don’t want to order anything?” he asked him again.

Yuuri opened his mouth to decline when a familiar blond kicked open the kitchen door and angrily stalked through it with a tray full of freshly baked cookies. Yuuri was hit by the most amazing and enticing smell and he swore the café turned deathly quiet as everybody’s gaze zoned in on the cookies.

“Beka! Help me with—oh, it’s you again,” the Russian Punk leveled a wholly unimpressed stare at him and Yuuri started to sweat. He blindingly reached towards his box. _Act normal. Act normal._

“He—hello!” he squeaked out.

Dark-and-mysterious ( _Beka?)_ muttered something to the Russian Punk, taking the tray from him. He then handed over the envelope to the blond, who took one look at it before storming back into the kitchen, where not even a moment later, a string of rapid Russian was being fired back and forth between two people— one voice angry the other a bit whiny, reminding Yuuri of Phichit on his worst days.

The barista didn’t even react to the commotion behind him, choosing to scoop up three cookies from the tray in a practiced manner, placing them inside a paper bag and slapping a gold sticker on it at the end. He handed the bag over to Yuuri.

“On the house.”

Yuuri quickly shook his head, “What? _Nonono_ — no I can’t possibly accept this,” while his hand was already reaching out towards it, and _wow was the bag warm or what_. Beka’s lips twitched slightly in amusement.

Was this like the good-cop, bad-cop routine? The Russian Punk being the Bad-Cop and Dark-and-mysterious being the Good-Cop? Were they trying to make him let his guard down? Because, _boy¸_  was it working. Yuuri set the cookies down on top of the box, salivating at the mouth-watering smell. He was a weak, weak soul.

“Thank you.” Yuuri slowly edged his way to the exit.

“Katsuki.”

Yuuri froze, turning back. Beka stared at him before slowly pumping a fist in the air. “Good luck.”

Yuuri looked at him in confusion. “Er—thank you?” Let it be known that his parents taught him good manners.

In the safety of his apartment after dumping all of Phichit’s stuff in his room, Yuuri rifled through his own package, pulling out many items and containers, including a tub of high grade genmaicha _(bless his family)_ , boxes upon boxes of differently flavored Kit Kat for Phichit ( _they spoil him)_ , an envelope full of developed photos with the Nishigoris and his family, and finally a small cloth bag with two _omamori_ inside. Yuuri set aside one to give to Phichit later, and clutched the other, thinking back to his encounter with the staff from _Stammi._  

Did Beka wished him luck because of his upcoming tournament? It couldn’t be… Does the Bratva have an interest in figure skating? Seemed like a weird hobby to have on the side while you dealt with stolen good and smuggling drugs. Yuuri hands halted over one of the items in the box…Maybe they ran their own illegal betting pools or something—was that why the college students were there? Yuuri heard tales of the Wayne State underground bookmaking business. Did it mean that Dark-and-mysterious bet on him winning? What if Yuuri loses now? Would they come after him—they knew where he lived!

 _Oh no_.

Yuuri was doomed.

Maybe he should just stay in Canada after the tournament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more notes: Courtesy of uncle-Google.  
>  _Ganba_ – [Japanese] short for ‘ganbatte’ which translates to ‘Good luck’ or ‘Do your best’  
>  _Khorb Khun Krup_ – [Thai] ‘thank you’ 
> 
> I changed Yuuri’s free costume! There was an actual reason behind it, but now I’m struggling to incorporate that back into the story.  
> The reason why Yuuri calls Otabek ‘Beka’ is because he heard Yuri call him that.  
> Thank you so, so, so much for reading, bookmarking, kudos, and commenting. It means a lot and also works as such strong motivation to keep writing. Until next time~
> 
> 9/7/17 & 9/23/17: minor edits, fixed typos


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a lot more figure skating and Yuuri doesn’t see what other people see.

Just as he had promised Phichit, Yuuri deposited the hamsters with Mr. and Mrs. Smith, who were more than happy to take them in for a few days _(Those two were just too nice)_. And then before he knew it, he was on the plane to Kelowna. The flight and subsequent arrival passed in a blur of activities. The pre-competition process was so familiar that Yuuri let his body go through the motions on autopilot.

To say that Yuuri was nervous would be a huge understatement.

He would be debuting his ‘Eros’ and ‘Yuri on Ice’ programs during Skate Canada and luck would have it that he was going to skate first in the line-up.  

Celestino had him go on a complete social-media blackout leading up to his SP, which was fine with Yuuri. He still talked to Phichit and his family but otherwise didn’t go online to read any of the predictions by the so called experts. That didn’t stop him from overhearing some of the commentary as he walked past all the TV screens lining up the venue hallways. A small crowd congregated in front of one of the displays. Yuuri noticed that they were doing a recap of Skate America and also introducing the Skate Canada competitors.

“Yuuri Katsuki declared his theme for this season to be ‘Love’, quiet bold if I may say so. But then how does a _katsudon,_ or pork cutlet bowl come into the picture?” There were a few chuckles as Yuuri scrambled away pulling up the collar of his jacket, praying to all things sacred that nobody would stop him to ask that question in person. _He was going to murder Phichit in his sleep for posting that video._

Yuuri was doing some light stretches with his earphones on, waiting for his group to be called out.  When the time came, they all walked out, coaches and skaters together. Yuuri shrugged off his jacket and wondered why everything went silent around him for a brief moment. He double checked that his _omamori_ was still safely tucked inside one of his sleeves. The material was slightly scratchy but Yuuri drew comfort from it. Then it was time to go out on the ice for the actual warm up.

Celestino started speaking to him, “Seduce them with all you have, Yuuri. Be the tastiest _katsudon_ you can ima—”

Yuuri blushed bright red, skating away before Celestino could finish his sentence. _Dear lord_ , _could people stop talking about the katsudon episode— that joke is getting old really fast_. There was no way he could skate while thinking about being a pork cutlet bowl without flubbing his jumps and step sequences now. He had about six minutes to come up with a different image otherwise he wouldn’t be able to perform his SP properly.

 _Sexy, sexy, sexy, think sexy, Yuuri_. _What else makes you lose your mind? Oh, duh_. He nearly slapped his forehead.

 _Doesn’t dark chocolate just scream ‘sexy’?_ Unbidden came the memory of the accented voice.

A horn sounded overhead, signaling that there was only one more minute left of the warm-up session.

He couldn’t be a _katsudon,_ but he could certainly act like a chocolate chip cookie. He brought forth the memory of the cookies from _Stammi_. Now just imagine a plate full of them delivered right to your house as you were snacking on carrot and celery, going through your miserable diet. As if anybody could resist the sweet scent of freshly baked cookies pulled out of the oven, and the warmth of slightly melted chocolate. _Diet? What diet?_

“Yuuri, you’re drooling,” Celestino pointed out when he skated back to the side of the rink for a brief moment, right before his performance. Yuuri blushed and surreptitiously wiped at the corner of his mouth. He put both of his hands on the rail, bending slightly forward to stretch his back. He looked up.

“Go get ‘em,” his coach said clasping hands with him.

The audience started clapping as Yuuri skated a lap around the ice, waving and smiling at them.

He took his position in the center of the rink putting his hands briefly over his ears to block out the sound around him.

 _Become a cookie, become a cookie—be the Stammi Vicino freshly baked cookie,_ Yuuri repeated in his head.

The music started as he moved his hands in tandem with the guitar strings of his SP theme. When the music cut off, a slight pause before it restarted, he cocked his head towards one of the cameras and smirked.

_Oh yeah, he’s got it._

* * *

 

> _phichit+chu posted a photo_
> 
> [young Yuuri stuffing his face with katsudon. Picture taken back in Hasetsu]
> 
> Liked by **suketo3ota, katsuki_mari** and **3,447 others**
> 
> **phichit+chu** Let me introduce you to @katsuki-yuu. Can you believe this…  credits to @katsuki_mari
> 
> #katsukiyuuri #katsudon #gpfinal14 #gpf #cometohasetsu #manyfaceofkatsukiyuuri
> 
> **katsuki_mari** looking good there, little bro
> 
> **katsuki-yuu** Mari-nee!!!!
> 
> View all 934 comments
> 
>  
> 
> _phichit+chu posted a photo_
> 
> [screenshot from Yuuri’s SP, licking his lips]
> 
> Liked by **kenjiro_minami, v-nikiforov** and **4,633 others**
> 
> **phichit+chu** …. is also this? @katsuki-yuu see you at #CC14
> 
> #katsukiyuuri #katsudon #gpfinal14 #gpf #bff #loveyoubro #manyfacesofkatsukiyuuri #whatiseros
> 
> **kenjiro_minami**!!!!!!!!!!!!!  <3 <3 </3
> 
> **christophe.gc** see you both at the Cup of China, mes chers
> 
> **v-nikiforov** <3 so Eros
> 
> View all 1,650 comments

* * *

“PHICHIT!!!!!” could be heard throughout the Marriott hotel that night.

Celestino simply turned around in his bed and went back to sleep.

* * *

 “Coach Celestino!”  

Both Yuuri and Celestino looked up as a grinning JJ approached them.  

“JJ!” Celestino stood up from the bench, opening his arms without any hesitation. The Canadian embraced him easily, laughing and patting him a few times on the back. 

“It’s good to see you, my boy,” Celestino said after they both let go. “Such a wonderful performance yesterday. Very exciting!” 

“Wait till you see my free skate. So much heart and _umf_ you won’t believe it!” 

Celestino turned back to Yuuri. “Have you met JJ before?” 

The Japanese shook his head taking off his earphone. He stood up. JJ shot him an assessing look before extending his hand. 

“Jean-Jacques Leroy.” 

Yuuri thought he sounded slightly pompous but he still shook his hand and answered, “Yuuri Katsuki.” 

“I know.” They both fell silent. Celestino looked between the two of them before jumping in.  

“So, how have you been, JJ? What’s next on your plan?” JJ grinned and started talking to the Italian about his upcoming tournaments, his parents, siblings, girlfriend, and at that point Yuuri figured it was okay for him to back away and put on his earphones again. He mentally shook his head.  

It was hard to believe but Yuuri and JJ nearly became rink mates. JJ used to train with Celestino in Detroit prior to his Junior debut. The year that Yuuri moved to Detroit was the year JJ decided to move back to Canada and skate under his parents’ tutelage, both of whom used to be decorated Olympic ice dancers. What Yuuri got instead was Phichit, with his two beat up suitcases and a smile like sunshine, and as they say the rest was history. 

Yuuri scrolled through his phone, re-reading the last messages his family and Phichit sent him. He looked up just in time to see JJ shaking hands with Celestino before the younger skater turned to address him.  

“Yuuri Katsuki, you might have taken first place in the SP yesterday but _I_ am going to take gold tonight.” He then did that weird L shaped thing with his fingers—“JJ style!”–before walking away. 

Yuuri looked after him slightly bewildered, turning towards his coach. Yuuri pulled out one of his earphones. “Sorry, Ciao Ciao. I didn’t catch what JJ said.” 

His coach shook his head slowly with a fond smile. “He wished you good luck. Come on. Let’s start warming up.” 

Since his SP score was the highest among all the competitors, Yuuri would be skating last in the Free. The Japanese nervously watched as JJ delivered a very powerful performance. If his short program could be called electrifying yesterday, this one was ethereal. It was surprising how such a loud personality could skate so…lightly—freely. Maybe it was the combined effect of performing in his home country, the unquestionable support from the vast majority of the audience, and his own talent, but the way the Canadian danced was truly spectacular, both from a technical and presentation side. With each jump and combination that JJ executed, Yuuri felt as if the air was being sucked out of the waiting room bit by bit. 

While JJ was taking his bows to standing ovations, Celestino was trying to give Yuuri a pep talk. Truthfully, Yuuri wasn’t really listening, his ears feeling as if they were full of cotton. When JJ’s score came out, the audience went wild and Yuuri felt the final nail in his coffin.

287.14?? The only way to beat this score now was if Yuuri skated a perfect free. And he wasn’t sure if he could do it. He felt Celestino gently guiding him toward the rink entrance, coaxing him out of his sports jacket. Yuuri felt the weight of the _omamori_ on his skin but felt no comfort from it. His costume too felt tacky. Too simple. Hah, _what breath-taking galaxy now?_ How was he going to follow JJ’s act?

Yuuri did a quick lap around the ice. He thought back to his conversation with Celestino at the beginning of the season. True to his words, they focused solely on the choreography, the jumps and quads and combinations set to medium level difficulty that they both knew Yuuri could execute. It didn’t stop him from penning out different sets that would gain him a few more points and practice them in secret whenever he could, but should he really…?

Time was running out and he wasted enough time. He skated to the center, pressing his hands to his ears as the crowds quietened down. He settled into his starting position with his head down staring at his hands that were close to his chest as if they were cupping something precious in them.

The music started and he let himself move, muscle memory taking over, taking him through the first few motions. On the outside he looked perfectly calm but his mind was in complete turmoil. The reason why his SP went so well yesterday was because Yuuri was able to get into character. For once he looked the part, so it was easy to pretend to be seductive. That he could be enthralling. Yes, he was that tempting chocolate cookie that caused you to break your diet and love every second of it.

But the free was about his love for skating and his gratefulness to everybody that supported him. Worst of all though, the free was about him—just him…just Yuuri. And although he knew how to act, he knew how to perform, he didn’t think being just himself would ever be enough.

What Yuuri didn’t realize was that his hesitance bled into his dancing but instead of making his movements look stiff, the dance was full of emotions, easily pulling at people’s heartstrings. _He was going to skate as best as could._ At the last second he switched the first combination to quad toe-double toe loop, setting himself up for the latest iteration he came up with in training. But then he flubbed his triple-sal, then the triple-loop, of all things, and faltered. He was done. He was done for. He won’t be able to catch up to JJ’s total score. Not unless he made it up somehow. He had to keep changing his jump elements. He chanced a glance at Celestino as he skated passed him. Yuuri couldn’t see his expression but he could easily imagine his disappointed gaze. He sent a mental apology to his coach.

He had some time to think as the free went into the second half, the notes slowing down. Yuuri plotted as he went through the spread eagle. Thankfully he managed to nail the triple axel and then the quad-toe-loop that he switched from the regular triple flip. The spins and kicks that followed were easy. He didn’t dare change the second combination so he kept the triple axel-single loop-triple salchow as it was, although he over rotated. The next few second went by in the blink of an eye. The music sped up as he went through a few more jumps and combinations followed by the expressive step sequence.

At this point there was still one thing he could try, one jump that he could upgrade. _Had_ to upgrade since he already used it earlier on. For a split second he considered the quad-flip but quickly shot down the idea in his head. He could barely land it during training. He won’t even try it today. Which left him with two options, a quad-salchow or a quad-loop. Shit, which one should he do? He did practice the loop but that one was even worse than the flip sometimes. But was a salchow even enough at this point? The music started building up and up and up, drawing to the conclusion and Yuuri felt the _omamori_ rubbing against his skin and he sent out a quick prayer to any deities out there that were listening. He spun backwards, raising his arms up and took off from the back outside edge of his right leg. The second he took to the air he knew it wouldn’t work. He counted the rotations in his head. One–two–three—f—he crashed to the ice taking a precious second to get up. He felt tears gather in the corner of his eyes but continued dancing, finishing with the sit spin, head down and his arms returning to his starting position, cupping something intangible and fragile in front of him.

He didn’t make it. It wasn’t enough.

 _He_ wasn’t enough.

* * *

Yuuri smiled and waved as the cameras flashed obnoxiously around him for what felt like forever. Further to the left was Emil Nekola with his bronze medal. And of course, above him was JJ with his gold medal to match his gold skates. After getting off the rink, Yuuri looked down at his own silver medal, Celestino’s arm wrapped around him, the weight familiar and comforting.

“I’m proud of you, Yuuri,” Celestino told him and Yuuri felt himself smile.

He got swept away to the press conference. While waiting for his turn to be interviewed, he clutched his medal to his chest.

 _Next time_ , he swore to himself. Next time.

* * *

 

> _phichit+chu posted a photo_
> 
> [photo set: screenshot of Yuuri doing an Ina Bauer, screenshot of Yuuri standing on the podium with his silver medal]
> 
> Liked by **katsuki_mari, cialdini.coachofficial** and **5,633 others**
> 
> **phichit+chu** Congratulations to my best friend, @katsuki-yuu. Keep inspiring
> 
> #katsukiyuuri #skatecanada14 #gpfigure14 #teamjapan
> 
> **Yk-fanboy13** again, the bromance is killing me. Congratulations katsuki yuuri!!!!!
> 
> **N_yuuko** you were wonderful tonight, Yuuri-kun
> 
> **v-nikiforov** what an inspiration
> 
> View all 1,050 comments

* * *

Yuuri woke up on Monday morning feeling the post-competition blues settling in. He quietly followed Celestino to breakfast, then back to the hotel, then to the airport. They were waiting for the plane to start boarding when Celestino put down his phone and turned to Yuuri.

“Do you want to talk about those changes you made to your free program?”

Yuuri straightened up from his slouch, looking at Celestino in panic, apology ready on his lips. In all the commotion he completely forgot that he went against his coach’s wishes to focus only on the presentation. It was obvious that Yuuri had been training jumps secretly on his own. He just hoped that Ciao Ciao didn’t notice that the last jump was supposed to be a quad-loop and not a messed up triple-loop that it ended up being. _Oh, who was he kidding?_

“Yuuri, calm down—it’s okay. I’m not mad at you,” Celestino said setting down a hand on his shoulder.

Yuuri stared at his coach who was looking off to the side, a slight frown at the corner of his mouth.

“Even if you had skated a perfect free, it wouldn’t have been enough to clinch gold. I went back and totaled up the score afterwards.”

“Oh,” Yuuri said.

“So, good job. It was quick thinking on your part. The quad-toe-double-toe loop combo at the beginning and the triple-flip to quad-toe-loop change in the middle were a nice way to set you up for higher scoring elements…if only they actually worked, right?

Yuuri flinched. Did—did Celestino mean he didn’t believe Yuuri could do it? Yuuri clutched at the _omamori_ that was inside his jacket, feeling a lump growing in his throat.

“We’re going to have you practicing jumps until you can do them in your sleep. You better prepare yourself.”

Yuuri couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Coach?”

“Do you think I don’t see the potential in your program? I know you can do it. Hopefully with practice you will be ready by the time Grand Prix Final comes around. But no more practicing on your own, all right? It’s a miracle you haven’t injured yourself so far.”

The lump receded in his throat but Yuuri could still feel the prickling behind his eyes. Celestino looked at his phone to give him some semblance of privacy as Yuuri quickly wiped at his eyes.

“Coach Celestino,” the Italian man hummed in acknowledgement without looking up.

 _“Grazie._ ”

That earned Yuuri a quick hair ruffle.

“You’re welcome, kiddo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter got a bit serious. But don’t worry, there is going to be more humor coming up in the future. 
> 
> I made some adjustments to the Free program but still followed the canon progression (episode 5 and episode 12). I promise it’s all deliberate. I hope the quad-loop isn’t too much of a stretch though. But let me know if it is actually not believable. I’m going by the simple notion that the Quad Loop has a lower base value than the Quad-Flip so it technically should be easier to land (haha as if). Fun fact: Shoma Uno and Yuzuru Hanyu landed the first ratified 4Lo and 4F, respectively, during the 2016 skating season.
> 
> This story was supposed to be pure humor and crack. But the skaters just hijacked it with all their figure skating hijinks. Ugh. Sorry, a lot happens in this chapter but it seems kinda slow, doesn’t it?
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Y’all the best! Until next time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuuri follows a new Instagram account, and our friends travel to China.

Returning to his apartment, Yuuri was greeted by Phichit and his three hamsters wearing party hats, a feast made up of take-out food from their favorite Thai place and a homemade salad spread out on their coffee table. Yuuri decided to forgive him for the _katsudon_ video somewhere between the span of Phichit dishing out the food while Arthuria one of his hamsters calmly ate peanuts out of Yuuri’s hand, and them reenacting _The King and the Skater_ at the end of the night with all three hamsters.

True to Celestino’s words, he had Yuuri and Phichit training and practicing jumps day and night leading up to the Cup of China. After one of those grueling sessions, a day before they were scheduled to fly out to Beijing, Yuuri was taking a break from packing by surfing the Internet.

Yuuri was scrolling through the list of likes on his _Following_ Instagram list when he noticed that Phichit had just liked a few posts featuring a fluffy brown poodle. Yuuri clicked on one of the photos and got transferred to the profile of Makka-Makkachin, officially the cutest dog on the face of the planet.

> ‘Hi! I am Makkachin but you can call me Makka. In my free time I like to go for runs with papa V and chase pigeons in the park. [doggy emoji] [tennis ball] [paw print].
> 
> Pronouns (she/her)’

Beneath the English text was a string of Cyrillic characters. A quick google search later revealed it to say the same thing as the text above it, if only in a slightly worse English.

Yuuri considered himself a follower of premium dog content on Instagram so he was shocked _(and even #shook)_ to realize that this was one account that he hadn’t followed yet. What surprised him even more was that Makka was followed by what seemed to be half of the figure skating community. Ok, so maybe that was a vast exaggeration but she was definitely followed by Phichit, Christophe Giacometti’s Official account and Chris's not so secret extra account that he reserved solely for pictures of his cat. And then Yuuri saw names like georgi.popovich and mila_babicheva, _and ok that does it,_ Seung-Gil Lee AND his gorgeous husky pupper????!!! Who was Makka???

Yuuri spent the next hour cooing over Makkachin doing different things, his suitcase left forgotten.  Makkachin wearing a cute bow-tie, Makkachin with a stick in her mouth, Makkachin panting excitedly, Makkachin breathing, Makkachin sleeping on the beach with sunglasses over her eyes, and his personal favorite, Makkachin all covered up in flour, a dog-shaming sign over her neck reading ‘I was trying to help papa bake, but ended up destroying the last bag of flour.’ Makka, Makka, Makka, he liked photo after photo until he realized, slightly horrified, that he had just liked 200 posts in a row.

He set down his phone on the table taking a deep breath because he definitely recalled a rule in Phichit’s Internet-etiquette crash course that said something about not liking pictures that were more than a year old. He was doing a good job working himself up when his phone rang with a notification. Yuuri swiped his thumb over the screen.

 

> **Makka-Makkachin** started following you

He was still processing the note when his phone proceeded to blow up with more notifications, Makka’s account liking all total of 30 posts that Yuuri had on his own account. Yuuri exhaled setting down the phone on the table again… _Well, that wasn’t too bad, was it?_

* * *

During their layover in Seoul, Celestino let them loose at Incheon Airport with strict instructions to be back at the gate in two hours. Phichit proceeded to drag Yuuri around from shop to shop, checking out different cosmetics stores and trying out fragrances and facial products. Then Yuuri dragged them around from store to store checking out snacks and souvenirs.

Then they stumbled upon a store selling toys and stuffed animals and didn’t leave for the next hour. Being the older and more responsible person, Yuuri had to physically stop Phichit from buying out half of the store. Then Phichit had to stop Yuuri from buying a dog plushie half his size. Then it was Yuuri’s turn to stop his friend again.

“Phichit, you just spent a fortune on those cosmetics. You can’t afford to buy this!” said Yuuri, grabbing the large hamster plush out of Phichit’s arms and setting it back on the shelf. How Yuuri hated being the reasonable person.

“I came out here to have fun and I feel so attacked right now,” said Phichit. He let his gaze speak for itself as his eyes landed on the number of bags that Yuuri had at his feet, filled with Korean and Japanese snacks. They both decided to leave before bad decisions were made, but Yuuri saw Phichit sending a last forlorn look at the shop display.

They were back at the gate 30 minutes later than they had promised Celestino, stopping on the way to grab some food. They weren’t supposed to board for another half an hour but people had already started lining up in front of the gate.

“I need to use the restroom,” said Yuuri. Celestino sent him a warning look. “I’ll be back on time, I promise,” he threw over his shoulder before his coach could stop him. He rushed back to the toy store in record time, finding what he wanted and paying for the item. On the way back to the gate, he turned into a restroom. He did have to use it and this way he _technically_ didn’t lie to Celestino.

When Yuuri came back to the gate, Celestino and Phichit were already standing up, their bags still at their feet. Wordlessly they moved to the queue, Celestino radiating disappointment but Yuuri for once didn’t care.

“Hey,” he turned to his friend and handed over a small plastic bag. The Thai looked at the bag and then at him before taking it. He reached inside, pulling out a small hamster plush keychain, a miniature version of the one that Phichit was gushing over a while ago. It was all orange and white and looked like Arthuria.

“Sorry it’s not the large one…” Yuuri said trailing off.

Phichit stared at the hamster for a while longer before silently attaching the toy to his phone. He then rummaged in his backpack pulling out an identical looking plastic bag and thrusting it at Yuuri. Yuuri was surprised to find a small brown poodle keychain.

“You know what they say,” Phichit tried to keep his face straight, his voice nonchalant, the effect completely broken by the happy grin that broke out on his face. Only now did Yuuri notice a light sheen of sweat on his friend’s forehead. “Great minds think alike and all that jazz.” Yuuri grinned back, attaching the keychain to his phone. They both waved their phones at Celestino, showing off their new toys.

“You two are ridiculous,” Celestino told them.

* * *

_“Welcome to the Figure Skating Grand Prix Series in which top athletes in the field compete to determine the world’s best figure skaters. The race to the podium has officially begun._

_At Skate America, Leo de la Iglesia won his first gold in his home country, while Guang-Hong Ji of China placed second. Rounding it all up was Phichit Chulanont with his bronze medal.  
_

_Next, at Skate Canada, Yuuri Katsuki, the silver medalist of last year’s series came in second._

_And now, tomorrow, all four will move on to compete in the third event in the series—the Cup of China.”_

* * *

“Leo arrived this morning. I invited both him and Guang Hong to join us for hot pot but Guang Hong just scoffed. Scoffed! Our child is going through his rebellious stage now. I don’t know what to do.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes at his friend’s melodramatics.

“I told them they could join us later if they had time.”

Celestino opened the door to the restaurant, letting them in first. They all slid into one of the booths, Celestino sitting on one side, and Phichit and Yuuri on the other. Phichit didn’t waste any time before taking a selfie and posting it to his account, tagging everybody in the span of a few seconds. The ordering process was interesting and involved a lot of hand gestures, pointing towards the menu and Phichit speed google translating things before the waiter took pity on them and told them he could speak English.

Order placed, they fell into a companionable silence. They were all staring at the hot pot, willing it to boil faster when Yuuri saw Celestino raise his head, his eyes widening in surprise...and, _wait_ , was he actually blushing? Yuuri registered the sound of approaching footsteps, the click of heels on the floor still audible over the low buzz of the conversations around them.

“Oh, Yuuri,” a singsong and familiar voice came from behind him.

Phichit and Yuuri turned around. Minako-sensei stood in front of them in her well-fitted trench coat, a hand on her hip and a warm smile on her face.

Yuuri sat shell-shocked for a moment before jumping out of his seat, a wide grin nearly splitting his face in half.

“Minako-sensei!” She grabbed him into a bear hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Like I would miss your performance. Japan isn’t that far from China.”

Yuuri turned back to his friend and coach still with his arms around his ballet instructor.

“Phichit, Celestino. Please let me introduce you to my former ballet instructor, Minako Okukawa.” The Thai was staring at both of them through his phone screen, most likely filming the whole interaction. His coach in turn was still staring at Minako with a slightly open mouth.

“If it’s not too much trouble, may I join you for dinner?” Minako asked already sitting down without waiting for any of them to respond, throwing her coat over the backrest with one hand and turning up the heat under the pot with another. Somehow quiet magically really, Yuuri found himself sitting next to Minako-sensei with Phichit sitting across from him next to Celestino. Before they knew it, she had waved down a passing waiter, ordered a few more things to add to the growing pile of food on their table including two beers and a bottle of baiju and was now sitting back munching on a carrot stick. Yuuri looked over at her fondly. There was definitely a hurricane named after her somewhere.

The night ended with Celestino passed out with his head on the table, slightly foaming at his mouth, and Yuuri stopping Minako from taking off her clothes in public.

“Celestino, keep it together!” Phichit said in a slightly panicked voice right before he took a photo, panic replaced by a gleeful smile.

Minako had both her arms around Yuuri, rubbing her face on his neck, tears flowing freely from her eyes as she spoke in slurred Japanese. “ _Yuuri, look at you, all grown up. I’m so proud of you! Hick. I still remember the day your cute little self showed up and knocked at the door to my studio. Oh, my heart has never recovered from it. You’re the best student I’ve ever had— why did you have to leave me????!!!!”_ she wailed at the end sobbing into his shoulder.

Yuuri patted her lightly on the forearm, used to her dramatics by now. The first time she confessed her thoughts like that Yuuri cried with her not knowing what to do, but now he just rolled his eyes at Phichit with the practice of a fed up student.

That’s how Leo and Guang Hong found them later. One look at the mess had the younger skaters turning on their heels and leaving.

* * *

Once when he was younger, Yuuri asked Minako why she gave up her life of stardom and went back to Hasetsu. She stared off into the distance in silence, a smile on her face part wistful part sad. Yuuri wanted to take back his question. In the end, she just shrugged, ruffled a hand through his hair, and then proceeded to cut their break short, putting him through another hour of grueling drills. He never asked her that question again.

But looking at her now as she walked in front of them—of how people around them reacted to her presence, Yuuri couldn’t help but be reminded that Minako Okukawa was a legend of her times. The first Japanese to ever receive the _Prix de Lausanne_ and the prestigious _Benois de la Danse_ , and the winner of more dance competitions than he could name. Obviously, not everybody recognized her, but the way she carried herself with poise and grace had people turning their heads, well aware that she was different. _Special._

Celestino managed to pull some strings and obtain a special visitor’s pass, allowing Minako to join them in the private hallways reserved for staff, skaters and their coaches. Minako walked ahead of them engaged in a light ~~flirting~~ banter session with Celestino, seemingly oblivious to the reactions she was garnering from around. At one point, she flipped her hair effortlessly over one shoulder and one of the people passing by walked right into a wall. 

“Who is Minako, really?” Phichit asked him in wonder. Yuuri smiled proudly. 

She also attended the practice session, staying at the rinkside right next to his coach. 

“Yuuri! Atrocious! What was that spin?! Tighten your core. Tighten your butt!” 

“Minako, may I remind you that Yuuri is my student,” Celestino’s words had as much effect on her as Yuuri telling Phichit to stop snap chatting everything they did, meaning none whatsoever as she continued to shout out instructions. Phichit filmed everything with a gleeful smile while he waited for his turn on the ice. When Yuuri stepped off of the ice, Minako handed him a towel.

 _“Are you sure being a tasty katsudon will pull you through to the finals?”_ she asked him exasperatedly, slipping back into Japanese. Yuuri had nothing to say in his defense. 

Inspiration came as always out of nowhere.

Minako and Yuuri were making their way back to the hotel after practice, with people stopping what they were doing to stare after his instructor as she passed them. Yuuri wondered how she could be this oblivious, smiling fondly. But then she looked back over her shoulder, apparently assessing the damage.

“Glad to know I still have it me,” Minako said sending Yuuri a smirk. Yuuri’s eyes bulged out in shock. She was doing this on purpose? Minako said something more but he wasn’t listening anymore. A story played out in his head so vividly that it felt like punch to his gut.

_A temptress comes to a certain town, bewitching everybody left and right until the whole place is enthralled. She knows she is tempting, knows her effect on others, but pretends not be aware of the broken hearts that she leaves behind her. She sets her eyes on the most handsome man in town who is not easily swayed by her attempts at seduction. But then, as they play the game of love, he inevitably falls in love. Just in time for her to break his heart, cast him aside, and move on to the next town._

Yuuri stopped abruptly, Minako looking back at him questioningly.

“Yuuri? What’s wro— _What are you doing?!_ ” she shrieked, switching back to Japanese, as he pulled them both in the direction of the practice rink. Celestino listened to him talk rapidly, words slightly jumbled in his excitement to convey his thoughts. When he was done, his coach looked over to Minako imploring.

“Can I leave him in your hands?” She nodded at him with a serious expression.

They spent the better part of the day and night in one of the training rooms, stopping only to snack, stretch, and drink water. 

 _“I’m sorry you have to help me with this, Minako-sensei,”_ he told her in a quiet moment before the sunrise.

She grinned at him. “ _Are you kidding me? I live for these moments!_ ” Her smile softened. _“I missed teaching you, Yuuri.”_  He looked away before she could see his eyes getting misty.

* * *

“The time to be skating as _katsudon_ is long over, isn’t it?” Minako told him after she let him go. It was time for his SP. He nodded, clasped hands with Celestino and pushed off, the audience welcoming him warmly. He stopped in the center of the ice, hands briefly going over his ears. He settled into his starting position.

“Yuuri Katsuki will be skating his Short Program to _On Love: Eros_.”

* * *

MEN, RESULT AFTER SHORT PROGRAM  
  
Yuuri KATSUKI                                   106.84  
Georgi POPOVICH                                98.17  
Leo de la IGLESIA                                 87.98  
Phichit CHULANONT                            86.75  
Christophe GIACOMETTI                      85.60  
Guang Hong Ji                                     79.87

* * *

Minako-sensei turned into one of the ladies rooms, telling him to go ahead without her. Yuuri ended up patiently waiting anyway, staring into the distance while doing a mental run through of his free skate. He startled when a warm body slid against him from behind, a hand settling over his hip before moving dangerously downwards. Yuuri reacted by rolling his eyes and swatting away said hand. Only one person he knew would be this shameless. He turned his head to the side and, _yep,_ Chris Giacometti stared back at him with blinking eyes and pouty lips.

“Yuuri,” the Swiss skater whined out exaggeratedly. “I can’t believe you didn’t take me up on the offer to come to Switzerland during the off season. We could have had so much fun together, just you and I, _mon cher_.”  

“Hi Chris.”

Christophe waited for Yuuri to say something more before setting his hands over his heart. “So cold! Glad to see the usual Yuuri is still here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh don’t tell me you’re planning to change your image to match mine now. Your _Eros_ program is beautiful but it’s no match to my sexiness.”

Yuuri chuckled at that. “I think one Christophe Giacometti in the world is enough. Your performance this year has been amazing, Chris. The passion in your SP was practically palpable.” Chris sent him a smile, this one slightly muted but more genuine than before, reminding Yuuri of their times back in Juniors.

“Well, I’m glad I was able to convey my theme then.” They fell into a companionable silence. Yuuri looked over to the ladies room wondering what was taking Minako-sensei so long.

“So what changed?”

“Huh?” Yuuri asked looking confused.

“You and Phichit are like monsters this season. I saw your Skate America and Skate Canada performances. And then yesterday’s short program…” Chris trailed off for a bit. “I’m actually starting to get worried about my GPF gold now,” he continued with a laugh. Chris was last year’s winner of the series with a 7 point gap between him and Yuuri.

Yuuri shrugged. “Nothing changed…we just trained more.”

The only thing that really changed from the previous season was that they finally moved out of their cramped college apartment into a newer and cleaner building. Yuuri briefly thought about _Stammi’s_ cookies and Phichit drinking their coffee religiously every week for the past few months. Maybe it wasn’t drugs in them but a secret Russian serum that gave Phichit and Yuuri figure skating super powers. Jokes aside, Yuuri knew what made the difference between this season and last. Both he and Phichit were skating programs that were special to them, that had a meaning far deeper than just trying to cater to the judges and the audience.

Before Yuuri could add anything more, Minako stepped outside talking with a familiar looking red head who waved at both Yuuri and Christophe but walked away without stopping to chat.

“Ready, Yu—Oh my God, Christophe Giacometti?” Minako gushed out.

Christophe blinked.

Minako reached out towards Yuuri shaking him slightly. “ _Introduce us,”_ she hissed out.

“Erm—Chris, this is my ballet instructor, Minako Okukawa—“

“I’m a fan,” Minako said breathlessly, extending her hand out.

“Oh my, I am honored,” the Swiss slid back into his sultry persona and Yuuri was not surprised when he reached for Minako’s hand but instead of shaking it he placed a kiss on her knuckles without breaking eye contact. _“Enchant_ _é_ _, mademoiselle.”_ Minako let out a squeal.

Yuuri helped them take a few pictures together. Minako took a quick look through them, telling him to retake them ( _Sorry, closed my eyes)_. Yuuri patiently took a few more shots. One look at them had Chris demanding another retake _(Oh my, that’s a horrible angle)._ Finally both Minako and Chris pulled Yuuri between them, Chris expertly switching to selfie mode. They squished their faces together taking multiple shots. Yuuri thought they turned out awful but Chris and Minako cooed, apparently satisfied.

Chris excused himself to go to the men’s room, wrangling a promise out of Yuuri to keep in touch more even if it was only to send pictures of dogs and funny American memes. Minako-sensei looked after him with a starstruck look.

“Come on, _sensei._ Let’s head back.”

Similar to Skate Canada, Yuuri would be skating his free in the last group since his score was the highest after the SP yesterday. For some reason he felt much calmer today than when compared to his previous tournament. Maybe it was because Phichit and Minako-sensei were with him… He felt good enough to even watch Guang Hong’s performance. He winced as the younger man fell on his triple-flip-triple-toe-loop combination in the second half.

He turned around scanning the area for Phichit. His friend was off to the side, his phone notably absent from his hands, mechanically going through stretches while staring blankly either at the floor or at the wall. Celestino kept sending him worried looks but didn’t make a move to talk to him.

Yuuri walked over to his friend, setting his hands gently on his shoulder blades and then pressing down to help him stretch. “Everything ok?” Yuuri asked, letting Phichit sit up again.

His friend shrugged, not looking at Yuuri. “I guess it just hit me…I need to place at least second to truly qualify for GPF.” He turned around facing Yuuri. “I don’t think I can do it,” he confessed in a quiet voice.

Yuuri looked at Phichit lost for words. It was so unusual to see his friend doubting himself. Yuuri wasn’t used to being on this side of encouraging, and he didn’t know what to say to make Phichit smile again.

 _It will be ok. You will win for sure._ Both things sounded trite and unconvincing. And worst of all, they were not genuine. Because if Yuuri wished his friend to win, it would mean that _he_ would have to lose. And Yuuri didn’t want to lose. He wanted both of them to skate as best as they could and let that decide who was more deserving of the gold medal.

He leaned over, reaching into Phichit’s sports jacket without permission. His friend startled but made no move to stop him. Yuuri pulled out his friend’s phone that still had the hamster plush attached to it. He then took out his own phone and set the dog next to the other stuffed animal.

Yuuri took a moment to gather his thoughts, taking a good look at Phichit. The outfit that he was wearing today was similar to the costume that Arthur wore after finally deciding to return to ice skating in _The King and the Skater II_.

Yuuri remembered fondly the first time he watched the movies with Phichit. Sometime during their first year together in Detroit when Phichit found out that Yuuri hadn’t seen them before, his face turned so pale that Yuuri thought he would faint from shock. They ended up pulling an all-nighter watching the movies, then re-watching them with special commentary. It’s funny how a musical about a retired, time traveling figure skater with magic powers wielded through a trading card game like freaking Yu-Gi-Oh could _work_ but here was _The King and the Skater_ in all its glory. They were completely useless the next day to the point that Celestino made them do suicides as punishment. Phichit had that day marked as one of their 'Friendnniversaries.' They had at least twelve of those ( _one for each month, Yuuri duh)_.

“But what should I do then, Your Majesty?” Yuuri said in a high-pitched voice, shaking the hamster as if it was the one speaking, reenacting one of the final scenes from the first movie.

Phichit let out a choked up snort, looking at Yuuri incredulously.

Yuuri continued, now shaking the dog. “Sometimes a crown does not make a king, Arthur,” Yuuri said in a deeper voice.

“Then what does?” Phichit and Yuuri said at the same time. They exchanged a smile.

“Belief,” Yuuri said in his own voice, Phichit mouthing the words silently with him. “And you, _Phichit_ , are the true king—” His friend pulled him into a hug before Yuuri finished the sentence.

“ _Thank you,”_ Phichit said into his shoulder. Yuuri patted him on his back. Looking up he saw Celestino giving him a thumbs up and a proud smile. Yuuri smiled back.

“You’re very welcome.”

* * *

MEN, FINAL RESULT  
  
Phichit CHULANONT                         285.76  
Yuuri KATSUKI                                  285.44  
Christophe GIACOMETTI                   283.81  
Georgi POPOVICH                             252.44  
Leo de la IGLESIA                              248.69  
Guang Hong Ji                                  247.21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by [For Your Eyes Only](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11218701) and [if she wants me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11514648). As you can see, Minako completely took over the chapter. 
> 
> Also, the sports commentary and the SP/FINAL scores are from episode 6 and 7, respectively.
> 
> The story line of the Eros routine was adapted from episode 3
> 
> Let me know your thoughts :) Next chapter will probably go out at the end of the week.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are yoga pants, a dog, and Yuuri finds the most beautiful creature in the world.

“Home sweet home,” said Phichit, ripping off a Fedex tag from the front door. Yuuri just sighed trying to insert the key into the lock, managing to miss at least three times. He looked to the side taking a deep breath. It was still slightly dark out but the lights inside _Stammi_ were already on. Yuuri rubbed at his eyes. He was exhausted after their long flight from China. Celestino absconded at the airport, taking a cab while Phichit and Yuuri waited for their Uber. The moment they sat down in the car, they both fell asleep, waking up only when their driver shook them awake.

He finally managed to unlock the door, letting Phichit in first. They dragged their bags upstairs collapsing onto the sofa right after.

“I want to see my babies,” Phichit whined out.

“It’s too early. Mr. and Mrs. Smith are probably still asleep,” Yuuri rubbed at his face. He stretched out and got up.

“Where are you going?” Phichit asked not budging from his slumped position on the sofa.

“Downstairs. Might as well go pick up our packages now.”

“You’re going to _Stammi?_ ” That seemed to spur Phichit into action. “I’ll come with.”

Before they parted ways at the airport, Yuuri handed over his silver medals to Minako-sensei to bring home. She took them with exasperation. “You know you could just keep them, right?”

He shrugged. “I’ll keep my GPF gold—”

“Oohhhhhh,” came an impressed sound from Phichit at the bold declaration.

Yuuri startled. He forgot his friend was there with him.

“I will see you in Barcelona,” Minako said, giving him a hug.

“Come here Phichit-kun”—she tugged him into a hug as well— “thanks for being such a good friend to my Yuuri.” She let them both go ready to leave when she let out a gasp.

“Ah, before I forget. I ordered a few things to your place, Yuuri.“

“Eh?”

“Make sure to bring them with you to Spain, ok?’

“Eh?” Yuuri repeated.

“What did you order?” Phichit asked at the same time.

“Leggings and yoga pants. Actually “—she sidled up to them –“we look to be about the same size. Feel free to keep a pair for yourself, boys.”

“Bye,” she sent them a brilliant smile, caught Celestino into a headlock leaving their coach blushing, and walked away—passing by like a hurricane.

“Out of everybody in this room, I think _I_ deserve a treat after my gold medal,” Phichit’s voice brought Yuuri back to the present.

“Don’t let your head get too large, otherwise you won’t fit through our door.”

“I’ll just jump down from the balcony. All the air in there will make me float right down.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

The lights from _Stammi_ shined brightly and welcoming through the window.  They walked into the café currently devoid of any customers, the chime above them ringing a sleepy good morning. Beka looked up from where he was refilling sugar containers, greeting them with a nod and a quick wave.

“Hi Otabek!” Phichit waved back cheerily. Yuuri looked at him confused. Wasn’t Dark-and-mysterious’s name Beka? He was about to nudge his friend to ask when his eyes strayed to the side. He saw an unfamiliar object near the wall. It was a large extravagant dog bed in leopard print and hot pink lining. But that’s not what really caught his eyes (although the design _was_ pretty garish and warranted a closer observation at the atrociousness of it).

A large brown furred dog was curled up on the bed. Yuuri got rooted to the floor, his vision narrowing down to that one spot. He vaguely heard someone’s voice saying excitedly, “Phichit, you’re back! Congratulations on your win! Do you want the usual?”

Yuuri’s feet slowly brought him closer to the dog, his body automatically avoiding all the obstacles in the way. Maybe sensing his gaze or hearing his footsteps, the dog twitched its ears before slowly blinking its eyes open. Yuuri was met with a pair of large brown eyes. The dog yawned and started getting up.

 _Nonononono, I didn’t mean to wake you up,_ Yuuri wailed internally. The dog stretched and ruffled its fur. Yuuri felt he would die from the cuteness. She, _because this was definitely a she and Yuuri was in love_ , gave him a doggy smile, tongue rolling out of the mouth. Did Yuuri mention he was utterly in love? He could now recognize that she was a poodle. He knelt down to the ground and patted his knees. The dog trotted over allowing herself to be pet. She nuzzled affectionately into his chest and Yuuri involuntarily let out a high pitched, slightly inhuman noise.

“Yuuri?” Phichit called out to him but he shushed his friend, going back to petting _his_ dog. Because this was his dog now. He was going to kidnap her.

“Aren’t you gorgeous? Aren’t you the prettiest dog on the planet? Yes you are, _yes you are_. Good girl!” With each compliment, the poodle nuzzled harder into his side and his hand, Yuuri letting out a delighted laugh. He brushed his hand over her luxurious curls and cupped her face lightly in his hands.

“Oh my gosh! You look like Makkachin—“

“Woof!” The dog answered him. Yuuri laughed at that.

“Yes you look like Makka—“

“Woof!” the dog interrupted him again.

Yuuri thought she was the most beautiful creature in the world.

“Wow, she really took to you,” a laughing voice came from behind him.

Yuuri grinned in response, turning around. Whatever he was going to say flew right out of his mind.

 _Sorry Makka look-a-like,_ Yuuri apologized in his head. _Correction—you’re the second most beautiful creature in the world._

Because the man in front of him, without any doubt, took the first place.

Yuuri was greeted by pair of blue eyes that held so much mirth that they looked like twinkling stars. The man was tall and slender. He was wearing what seemed to be the _Stammi Vicino_ standard, black well-fitting pants and a white button up shirt with rolled up sleeves. He also had a black apron over his pants that was slightly dusty with flour. His hair was kept short, the color a light blond to the point that it practically looked silver. His bangs were slightly asymmetrical, partially covering one of his eyes. Did Yuuri already mention he was beautiful? Because he was.

“—but I’m sorry to say that I’m still her favorite person,” the man kept talking, not noticing Yuuri’s slightly besotted look. As if to prove his point, the poodle trotted up to him and demanded to be petted.

“Er—“ came a very coherent response from Yuuri who was still kneeling on the ground, his mouth still half-open.

Phichit snorted which seemed to be enough to shake Yuuri out of his daze. He shot up to his feet.

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me!”

“Yeah, Yuuri. _Rude!_ We’ve been trying to talk to you for the past ten minutes but you completely ignored us.”

“S-sorry, so sorry,” Yuuri stammered bowing repeatedly, his Japanese upbringing kicking-in.

“ _Nonono_ , no that’s really ok. Dogs are obviously more important than anything else. I’m glad you have you priorities straight,” the man joked and then honest to goodness winked at him. Yuuri was _floored_.

The most beautiful man in the world extended his hand out. “I’m Viktor. Viktor Nikiforov.”

“Y-Yuuri Katsuki,” he stammered out. They shook hands once. Then twice. And one more time neither making a move to let go. For thirty seconds. A camera shutter went off. Yuuri’s head whipped to the side where Phichit shot him a grin.

“Don’t mind me, guys.”

Yuuri took back his hand and stuffed it into his pockets, glaring at his best friend. The Phichit murder plan was back in the game.

The poodle bopped her head against his thigh and all the murderous thoughts momentarily left his head. How couldone think of evil in the face of such cuteness? He petted her over the head.

“And what’s your name, gorgeous?”

“It’s Makkachin,” Viktor answered at the same time as she barked again.

“Oh, that’s really nice—wait, what?! You’re Makkachin?!” He dropped to his knees grabbing her by her face. She licked his hand, barking once more. He turned to Viktor. “You’re Makkachin’s owner?!”

Viktor let out a surprised but delighted laugh. “Oh, _wow_. Not how I usually introduce myself but _yes_ I’m the proud papa of Makka-Makkachin.”

“Oh God, kill me now, please,” came a disgruntled voice. Yuuri looked towards the counter, seeing the Russian Punk sliding different pastries into the display case.

“Yura!” Viktor shouted. “Come here and introduce yourself to Yuuri. Oh this is funny, his name is Yuri too, but we call him Yura.”

“Ah,” Yuuri went back to one-syllable answers. He took a good look around the bakery. Yuri ( _oh this was going to get confusing)_ had just finished sliding the rest of the desserts into the display. Otabek gave Phichit a cup of coffee, who immediately took a sip and visibly melted from the caffeine bliss. Viktor was still standing in front of him, the smile on his face bright and genuine, Makkachin right next to him with a dopey smile herself. Yuuri realized that this was his first time seeing all of the _Stammi Vicino’s_ staff together in one place like this. The addition of Makkachin made the place look less intimidating.

Yuuri let out a mental sigh, reluctantly letting go of his Russian mafia conspiracy theory. Nobody with such a cute dog could be a bad person, right?

_Right?_

“Anyhow, would you like to order anything, Yuuri?” Viktor asked. Yuuri would love to have a recording of Viktor saying his name on loop.

“Ugh—huh?” came his very coherent answer. Apparently in the face of the most beautiful creature in the world, Yuuri was reduced to Neanderthal grunts and monosyllabic answers.  

“We have cookies,” said Otabek with a perfectly straight face. Phichit and the other Yuri snorted.

“On the house,” Viktor added, still smiling.

“What? No way. I can’t accept that,” Yuuri said shaking his head.

“Speak for yourself _,”_ Phichit mouthed from behind Victor.  His friend was shameless.

Viktor was already making his way back to the counter, disappearing into the kitchen before returning with a tray full of cookies. Yuuri knew that the battle was lost so he let Makkachin nudge him towards the counter.

“They’re freshly baked,” Viktor said unnecessarily, sliding five of the cookies into a paper bag and closing the seam with a golden sticker. He then grabbed two croissants from a rack and put them in another. “And these are for you Phichit. Can I offer you guys anything from the display?”

Yuuri took a quick glance at it, tearing his eyes away before he could actually be tempted into taking Viktor up on his offer. “That’s a lot of chocolate.”

Viktor let out a weird laugh. “You could say I was...inspired.”

Other Yuri let out a harsh cough, Otabek moving to clap him on the back a few times.

Phichit looked amused while Yuuri looked on confused. The other two noticed their stares and made their way into the kitchen.

Yuuri made another move to reach for his wallet.

“Please, let us pay for these.”

“No! I told you it’s on the house. It’s not every day that we have figure skating medalists coming into our shop, you know? Congratulations on your wins in the Cup of China.”

“You follow figure skating?” Viktor’s smile took on a different quality.

“You could say that.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Otabek reappearing from the backroom. “I’m a fan”—he slid over a piece of blank paper—“Can I ask you two for your autographs?” Yuuri blushed but Phichit squealed, grabbing a marker from near the register and signing half of the sheet before passing it to Yuuri.

“I love meeting fans but Yuuri definitely needs to work on his manners.” Yuuri let out an embarrassed sound, pouting at his friend. He still picked up the pen and wrote out ‘To Otabek, from Yuuri Katsuki.’

“Unfair! I want one too!” Viktor shouted as he ran to the kitchen and came back with two pieces of paper.

“One is for me, “ Phichit and Yuuri moved to sign it. “—and this one is for Yura,” Viktor added in stage whisper. Otabek’s lips twitched in amusement but he pretended to be engrossed in admiring their autographs on his piece of paper.

“He won’t admit it but he is a fan too.” Yuuri signed the paper but looked at Viktor skeptically.

“Anything else I can help you with?” Viktor asked after he finished admiring his paper.

“Do you have any packages for us?” Phichit asked putting back the marker were he found it.

“Say no more—I’ve got this,” Viktor said, kneeling down and coming back with a large bulky yellow padded envelope. He threw it lightly up in the air.

“Oh, this is lighter than usual. What did you buy this time?” he asked curiously.

“Yoga pants,” came Yuuri’s automatic response as he looked at the label on the package.

Viktor let out a gasp. “You figure skate, ballet dance _and_ practice yoga?!” he asked in wonder, his lips taking on a nearly perfect heart shape. Yuuri was enchanted.

“Er—yes?”

“You must be very…flexible then, no?” Viktor continued, sending him another honest to goodness wink.

“GROSS!” came other Yuri’s shout, slightly muted by the kitchen door.

Yuuri couldn’t come up with a response, his brain completely fried. Phichit took pity on him, grabbing the cookies, croissants and coffee, nudging Yuuri to grab his package.

“Thanks for the coffee and food as always, Viktor.”

“Anytime. You know we love having you here, Phichit. Yuuri, you should come over more often.”

“And you should set up Autopay,” Yuuri shot back in response. Otabek snorted and Yuuri felt himself blush. _Gosh_ , what was wrong with him?

“T-thank you!” he stammered out turning on his heels, ready to bolt before he embarrassed himself even more. Makkachin was blocking the way out. She sat in front of the entrance, her tail wagging behind her. Yuuri took five minutes to say good bye to her before Phichit had to physically drag him out, complaining that his coffee was turning cold.

“Come back next time, Yuuri!” Viktor shouted after him. Yuuri chanced a glance back through the window and saw the silver-haired man still waving at him excitedly. The other Yuri was saying something to him but the words clearly had no effect on the other man. Yuuri went up the stairs to his apartment in a daze. He sat down on the sofa.

Phichit waved the pack of cookies in front of him, waking him up from his daydream. His expression was full of smugness.

“What?”

The Thai stayed silent but his shit-eating grin kept getting wider and wider. He waved the cookies in front of him again. Yuuri reach out to grab them but the Thai yanked them back out of reach. He then started walking around the room with exaggerated steps and spin, holding the bag of cookies as if it was a dancing partner. And then he started humming the wedding march. Yuuri grabbed the closest object to him, which unfortunately turned out to be a sofa cushion and chucked it full force at his friend _(he wanted something harder. Something that would cause more pain. Like his skates)_. His friend dodged it and continued to twirl around the room.

“Can I just say something?” The Japanese sighed knowing what was coming.

“ _I—Told—You—So!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9/15/2017 & 10/17/17: minor edits - getting rid of typos etc.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phichit finally cooks, a challenge is issued, and there is an encounter in a park.

Yuuri wasn’t sure where Viktor had been hiding before but after their meeting in the bakery he was suddenly _everywhere_.  

“Hi Yuuri!” Viktor would greet him when he was leaving the apartment for morning training.

“Hi Yuuri!” Viktor would run out of the café in the afternoon when Yuuri sometimes came back to drop off his stuff after the first half of his day.

“Nice morning today isn’t it, Yuuri?” Viktor would ask standing under the shop awning, rain pouring down around them while Yuuri was struggling to open his umbrella.

While scrolling through some of the old posts on Phichit’s account, he saw that _v-nikiforov_ had commented on a lot of them. Two guesses whose account that was.

And then there were the _pictures._

Which started somewhat like this.

**Makka-Makkachin**

Today at 1:43 PM

Hi Yuuri! It’s Viktor! It was very nice to meet you the other day~

hi Viktor, it was nice to meet you too

Yuuri debated adding a ~ at the end as well, but would it make him sound too excited?

**Makka-Makkachin**

Today at 2:05 PM

(ﾉ∀＼*)

Oh _no_ , another kaomoji fiend. No wonder he got along with Phichit so well.

btw i love your pictures of Makkachin!

The “!” was retyped and deleted at least three times.

ヾ(*´∇`)ﾉ

She’s great, isn’t she? Here, let me send you some more.

Yuuri was in the middle of typing “there really is no need” when Viktor bombarded him with picture after picture of his poodle, none of which were on the actual account.

Yuuri created a folder on his phone called 'Makka-my dog'.

**Makka-Makkachin**

Today at 2:09 PM

keep them coming

Yes, sir! ( ・∀・ )ゞ

* * *

In a moment of weakness he went on Viktor’s Instagram account. It turned out that the baker kept it “Private” so he couldn’t see any of his photos. Yuuri wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved or disappointed. His thumb hovered over the _Follow_ button for a second. He talked himself out of pressing it.

Instead, he went on _Stammi Vicino’s_ account. The most recent pictures showed a lot of chocolate themed desserts that the shop was selling. There were also artful shots of mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows (#classic), and fall themed drinks like pumpkin spice lattes (#fallishere). The pictures were mostly of the store and the food and drinks that _Stammi_ was selling, but there were occasional candid shots of Yuri or Otabek in the café. Yuuri was also surprised to see that the first few pictures on the account weren’t taken in Detroit but somewhere else. Apparently there was another _Stammi Vicino_ bakery in the world.

He absentmindedly liked a few pictures from the page, looking closely at a photo of a chocolate ganache cake that seemed familiar, when his phone pinged with a notification.

> **v-nikiforov** started following you

Yuuri chucked his phone to the other side of the room with a scream.

“What’s wrong?!” Phichit shouted running out of the kitchen.

“Nothing! It’s nothing,” Yuuri said. Phichit looked at him then down to the floor where his phone was. He picked it up. Taking one look at the screen, his friend sent him an exasperated look.

“And you call me extra. That was a complete overreaction,” Phichit said coming over to drop his phone on his lap before going back to the kitchen.

Yuuri checked his phone for scratches, feeling himself blushing. Phichit was right. That was an overreaction. He got up and dragged himself to the kitchen where he collapsed into one of the chairs. He stared as Arthuria sat impassively on the kitchen table while Ousama and Mahjong were fighting it out for her heart.  He snapped a picture of them before he realized it.

“I just don’t understand,” Yuuri whined out shaking his phone for emphasis. “He keeps sending me pictures of Makkachin.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t like it.” 

“That’s the thing. I love it! Phichit, have you seen Makka?! She’s like the cutest dog on Earth. And I mean I asked for the photos but I didn’t think he would _actually_ keep them coming.”

“So, what’s the problem? Wait before you answer—here. Try this,” his friend came over with a spoon of soup. Yuuri dutifully tasted it.

“Needs more lime.”

“Dammit, I knew I was missing something,” said Phichit moving to rummage through their fridge for the last wedge of lime.

“The problem is, I don’t know how we went from complete strangers to sharing memes and dog pictures.”

“Yeah, and before you know it, it will all be selfies and nudes.”

“Phichit! I’m serious.”

“I am too. Listen. Is it so hard to believe that somebody just wants to…talk to you? And he might be shy about actually talking so he just—sends you pictures of his dog instead,” Phichit chuckled.  “That guy totally has your number.”

“As if Viktor would be shy about anything. He could probably have anybody in Detroit, why would he bother wi—“

“Finish that sentence and I won’t give you dinner. If you ask me, _anybody_ should feel lucky you’re giving them a time of your day, Viktor included. Besides, you guys had a _moment_.” Phichit squeezed the lime into the pot stirring it a few times.

 _Moment?_ What moment? Was it before or after Yuuri made a complete ass of himself? _Set up Autopay, Viktor. Make sure you pay your bills on time, Viktor._ Should he remind him next time that the tax filing season was coming?

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend,” Yuuri muttered under his nose. Not quietly enough as Phichit shot him a glare.

Viktor had just sent him another picture of Makkachin. She was lying on the sofa with her eyes closed. On her back, also asleep, was a white long-haired cat that had darker fur around its face, ears, and legs.

Yuuri felt himself smile. He sent back a row of hearts, and before he could change his mind, he forwarded along the picture he took of the hamsters. Viktor immediately responded with a row of exclamation marks. Yuuri hid a smile behind his palm. He looked up to see Phichit watching him.

“What?”

“Dinner is ready. Help me with the bowls.”

* * *

Neither Yuuri nor Phichit were used to winning. Phichit had only moved to the Senior Division in the prior year where lack of experience and reliable quads didn’t allow him to move beyond sectionals. Yuuri being Yuuri questioned each and every of his medals. Maybe once he became a five time world champion and four time gold medalist of the Grand Prix series, he would realize that he was actually talented.

It took Celestino actually spelling it out to them after one of their training sessions to the loud cheering of the rest of the skate club that they had essentially qualified for the Grand Prix Final. Phichit and Yuuri stood there in a daze, speechless, Phichit doing a great imitation of a goldfish. Celestino quickly snapped a picture and uploaded it to his rarely used Instagram account (because he was a proud coach, not because this was payback for all the unflattering pictures floating around the Internet courtesy of Phichit. He didn’t feel sorry that his students looked kind of silly in his post #beststudentsever #proudcoach #detroitfam).

Having already completed two of their assignments, all Phichit and Yuuri could do was train and wait for the GPF. Phichit spent his time perfecting his quad-toe-loop and quad-toe-double-toe-loop combination. Yuuri flailed between practicing his quad-sal and quad-toe-loop.

Under Celestino’s glare he moved on to show him what he could do with the quad-loop. Yuuri could land it probably around 50% of the time if he tried. He needed to perfect it especially if he was going to face JJ and Christophe in the finals.

After making close acquaintance with the ice for the umpteenth time that day and taking a little bit longer to say his goodbyes, Celestino finally waved him over. Yuuri skated up to his coach, wiping his face with his sleeve. Celestino passed him a towel, his gaze searching.

“Your quad-loop is…decent. You’re not getting enough height, that’s why you can’t get enough rotations in. The step sequence before it is not giving you enough time to gain the right momentum.”

Yuuri listened silently not sure where his coach was going. Or maybe he did. He just didn’t want to acknowledge it—just as he had tried to avoid it for the past year.

“Do you want to change the step sequence?”

Yuuri vehemently shook his head.

“The why don’t you do a quad-flip?”

And there was the one hundred million dollar question, wasn’t there? In his mind, he saw a figure taking off—saw them flying through the air and crashing like a rock. Something must have flashed on his face because Celestino backed off, giving him some space to compose himself.

“The flip would fit the flow of your free skate more. And the current step sequence would give you enough space and speed to pull it off.”

Yuuri stayed stubbornly silent.

“Try it.” Celestino rarely pulled rank but that didn’t sound like a suggestion. He wanted Yuuri to do it. Yuuri skated away moving into his final step sequence. He took off and landed. A clean triple flip.

Celestino let out a sigh.

At least he had tried, _right_?

* * *

The NHK trophy came and went, Seung-gil Lee a newcomer to the series taking first place with Michele Crispino taking second. Yuuri found out about that from Phichit, who found out about that from twitter, neither of them having spare time to actually watch the tournament as they were busy with both training and studying for their midterms. Their apartment was turned into a study war zone of flying notes and discarded flashcards. They were so busy the entire week that they also missed out on the afternoon Live Stream of Trophée de France. Celestino texted right after the event concluded to tell them that Chris had placed first. This meant that they now had three confirmed GPF finalists: Yuuri, Phichit and Chris.

“I can’t look at my notes anymore!” Phichit finally cracked sometime in the evening, slamming his notebook shut.

Yuuri looked up from his flashcards.

“Do you want to take a break?”

“Yeah, let’s pop some popcorn and watch a rerun of the Trophée.”

Yuuri nodded, setting down his notes. He got up to go to the kitchen.

“Wow, I thought it would take more to convince you. You’ve been married to your flashcards for the past week,” Phichit said following after him.

Yuuri put the packet of popcorn inside the microwave with a serene expression on his face.

“I’m going to set them all on fire after the midterms are done.”

Phichit slowly backed away, “Eh—okay…I’m going to go and find the replay of the competition.”

Yuuri smiled at him, “You do that, Phichit-kun.” Phichit shivered, turning on his heels.

They watched the men’s short and men’s free programs one after the other already aware of the final results. What they didn’t expect and what Celestino conveniently left out of his text? Chris managed to pull off a freaking quad-flip in the middle of his free program. Yuuri spilled popcorn all over himself when that happened. He didn’t expect it. _At all._ Phichit let out a scream so loud that Mr. Smith texted them to ask if everything was all right.

They found a recording of the press conference following the event, listening to Chris saying how now that Cao Bin wasn’t there to surprise the audience anymore, it was his turn to do so in his friend’s place, giving a charming smile and a wink to the delight of the press. They asked him what had pushed him to reveal his new jump now. Chris responded that he didn’t want to take the chance of missing out on the GPF. Besides, he felt very motivated following his bronze at the Cup of China.

Yuuri sat shell-shocked throughout the interview, because with the addition of the quad-flip to his roster, Chris had all the quads in his arsenal except for the loop. If he used them all in the final, he could probably edge out JJ in TES score, and thus also Yuuri.

Before wrapping up the press conference, one of the journalist asked Chris a final question.

“Do you have anything to say to the other GPF finalists, Chris?”

The Swiss looked slightly thrown off by the question. But the look of surprise slowly morphed into a mischievous grin.

“Oh yes, I even have it prepared right here.” He looked at his phone for a moment before finding a camera to look at.

“What’s your next move, _bakemono-san?_ ” Chris said and winked. The press erupted into a confused murmur, Marooka-san trying to get in another question but the skaters started getting up and leaving the table.

_We now have three confirmed GPF finalists: Yuuri Katsuki of Japan, Phichit Chulanont of Thailand, and Christopher Giacometti from Switzerland. The next and final qualifying event is the Rostelcom Cup to be held on November 22-24 in Moscow, Russia. The sixth event will decide the final three skaters to qualify for the Grand Prix Final—_

Phichit snapped the lid of his laptop shut and looked over at Yuuri.

“What was that about?”

 _That_ was a direct challenge. Only Chris would be so dramatic to issue a challenge on international TV. Normally, Yuuri would either be freaking out under the pressure of expectations or he would be tickled amused by the Swiss’s antics. Now though with the added stress of midterms and papers—now he was fuming.

Yuuri rushed to his room. He changed into his running clothes and stuffed his skates into a backpack.

“Yuuri, where are you going?” Phichit asked.

“Out,” Yuuri muttered, leaving the apartment.

Yuuri was greeted by a chilly November evening. The lights inside the bakery were off. He let his feet carry him in one direction, his mind in turmoil. The whole situation…wasn’t bad. He had time to refine his program. He could make the triple flip to quad-toe-loop change permanent. He just needed not to mess up his quad-salchow. And nail his quad-loop at the end, _no biggie_ , which should keep his TES score high enough. Even Chris wouldn’t dare put his quad-flip at the end of his program. Not even Cao did it.

Thinking about Cao was…still hard. He had been avoiding his friend ( _acquaintance? senpai? ex-fellow competitor?)_ for a few months now. And he felt like the retired skater was doing the same thing.

Yuuri still felt sick to the stomach when he remembered how the Chinese skater crashed after his quad-flip during the GPF last year. How for a brief moment they all thought he wouldn’t get up. But he did. He climbed back up, and continued to skate, trying to finish his free. He downgraded all of his jumps to doubles and singles, thus cementing the fact that he won’t be placing on the podium. And even though his movements were wobbly, he continued to skate his heart out until the final note of the music. Everybody could sense it—the dance was a good bye.

His theme for that year had been “new beginnings.”

Later in the kiss a cry while waiting for his score, Cao still smiled at the cameras while his coach iced his wrist for him. When the results were announced, Yuuri could see the exact moment his smile slipped a bit. But the Chinese immediately perked up, pumping his fist, waving in response to the loud cheering of the audience. Off-screen, Yuuri watched from his spot as his competitor limped away, shoulders slumped in disappointment, supported by his coach before being transferred on to stretchers. Celestino was saying something to him but Yuuri felt as if his ears were filled with cotton. Overhead they were announcing the results of GPF.

Chris won gold.

Yuuri got silver.

Later that evening, Yuuri was doing a good job hiding from everybody at the GPF banquet, his silver medal tucked away in his pocket rather than hanging around his neck when Cao walked up to him on crutches.

“Hey Yuuri. Congrats on your silver,” Cao said with a genuine smile.

“Thanks,” he remembered his lackluster answer. “How—how are you feeling?”

“Not bad. Not the way I wanted to go, but hey, at least it was memorable, right?” Cao had the highest SP score out of all of them. He wasn’t supposed to place fifth. Not in his last season. Not after three other gold GPF medals, or his two World Championship titles, or three four continents medals, or his freaking Olympic bronze medal. Yuuri touched his own silver medal, feeling like a total fraud.

Cao was  kind. For some reason, ever since they started competing against each other in Seniors, he always had encouraging words for Yuuri. He was always looking out for other younger skaters as well. A true _senpai._ The three of them, Chris, Cao and Yuuri, they were sometimes friends, but they were mostly rivals. Now with this series over, and Cao unlikely to go on to Worlds…

“Don’t, Yuuri.”

“What?” Yuuri shook himself out of his thoughts.

“Don’t look at me like you pity me.”

“I’m not—”

“You are! I thought you of all people would understand. I messed up and you and Chris didn’t. You two deserve your medals. So why aren’t you wearing yours?” Cao said, his voice getting slightly louder, slightly angrier until Yuuri flinched at the final accusation.

Whatever the older skater had said, Yuuri didn’t think he deserved his medal. He messed up his jumps, he got by simply because his quad-flip had enough rotations, even though he didn’t land it cleanly. It seemed unfair that he still managed to claw his way to the podium even with all the mistakes he had made. Why? Simply by luck. Just because Cao had fallen.

So no, maybe Yuuri didn’t understand. And he didn’t know what to say. To explain himself. To defend himself? So he walked away, the silver kept hidden in his pocket, wondering. W _hy was it that the brightest stars burnt the fastest?_

Yuuri came to an abrupt stop, hands grasping his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He was panting, slightly disoriented when a familiar voice came from behind him.

“Yuuri?”

He looked behind his shoulder. Viktor stood there also dressed for a run, trying to hold back Makkachin by her lead. She was jumping around excitedly, barking.

“Viktor? Makkachin?” Yuuri wiped at his forehead, feeling himself smiling automatically at the sight of Makkachin.

The other man looked surprised to see him but then gave him a brilliant smile. He must have loosened his hold on the lead, because seconds later Yuuri toppled to the ground groaning under the weight of the poodle, who started nosing at his neck and giving him doggy kisses all over his face.

“Makkachin! Bad girl! _Bad girl!_ Come here!” Viktor rushed over, shouting. He made to grab the leash but missed as Makkachin ran around them in circles, barking. Yuuri laughed, grabbing the dog and rubbing at her fur fiercely when she came closer again.

“I’m so sorry, Yuuri! Are you okay? You’re not hurt are you?” the Russian rushed out once he managed to drag his dog away from the skater. Job well done, Makkachin let out a bark and plopped herself down, looking very proud of herself.

Yuuri sat up still grinning.

“Yes, I’m fine.” He reached out, patting Makkachin on the head, all worries forgotten for now.

Viktor hovered hesitantly above him before reaching out with a hand. Yuuri grasped it, the other man helping him up. Yuuri brushed away the grass and dirt from his clothes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine—It’s fine, Viktor. Don’t worry,” Yuuri repeated.

“What are you doing here?” Viktor asked, picking out some leaves and grass from Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri looked around.

“Er—actually, where are we?”

“We're in Palmer Park, south of the golf course...This is my regular running spot since my place isn’t far from here,” Viktor explained pointing vaguely in one direction.

“Oh,” Yuuri answered not knowing what else to add. They both fell silent. Makkachin looked between them before nudging at Viktor’s thigh.

“Would you—would you like to go for a walk with us?” Viktor asked him, twisting Makkachin’s lead around his hand.

“A walk sounds nice.”

They let Makkachin lead the way. She would sometimes stop to sniff at the grass or an interesting bush, occasionally making her way back demanding to be petted either by Yuuri or Viktor before walking ahead of them again.

“Is everything all right?” Viktor asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes...Why do you ask?” Yuuri looked over at the other man.

“You just looked really occupied—intense, you know? Like you were thinking about something difficult. I wasn’t sure if it was you for a second, but before I knew it, Makkachin got really excited and pulled me closer.” Hearing her name, the poodle barked once, wagging her tail, looking back at Yuuri and Viktor. Yuuri smiled at her.

“I just have a lot on my mind.”

“The GPF?”

Yuuri’s smile slid off of his face. He nodded.

“And other things.” He wasn’t sure what made him keep talking. “Phichit and I were watching Trophée de France. That’s the GPF qualifiers in France.”

Viktor nodded.

“One of the skaters that was competing there—I don’t know if you heard of him—Chris Giacometti?” at Viktor’s nod Yuuri continued, “He won today.”

“U-huh.”

"He landed a quadruple-flip in this competition, which is something I’ve wanted to do since last year. But I stopped training for it, because it was always this other skater’s signature jump, you know? And with him gone…it just didn’t feel _right_ to use it. Not so soon at least. And I thought everybody thought the same thing, but it seems like it was all just in my head. So now I feel stupid. Because the flip was supposed to be _my_ thing. And Chris went ahead and pulled it out of nowhere. And I’m feeling both angry, because it feels like I’m being left behind, but also happy, because…because it’s Chris,” Yuuri cut off his rant, feeling frustrated at the way he couldn’t voice his thoughts coherently.

Viktor, however, just made a sound of acknowledgment.

“Are you close to Chris?” the Russian asked him.

Yuuri had to think about it. He didn’t have many friends. He had Phichit, of course. And there was Yuu-chan and Takeshi who landed firmly in the childhood friend bucket. Chris though…Chris was just Chris. They debuted around the same time in Juniors keeping up amicable relations. The older man moved on to Seniors a few years before Yuuri did so they lost touch for a while. But then they both bombed their finals, Chris his GPF and him his last Junior GPF, and they both decided that it would be a fantastic idea to skip the post series banquet and instead go out to explore the nightlife in South Korea. In the name of—what was it?—' _cultural enrichment_ '.

There were _pictures_.

If Cao and Jae-Seok didn’t find them that night, Yuuri and Chris would have probably ended up in a ditch somewhere. And wouldn’t that have been an international disaster. So Yuuri corrected his thoughts. Yes, Chris was his friend but...

“We used to be, I guess. But then we both got busy and went our own ways.”

Viktor looked at his from the corner of his eyes. “Chris talks about you like you’re an old friend.”

“How do you know that?”

“I used to live in Switzerland. He and I were neighbors.”

“No way, really?!”

“Yes, small world, isn’t it? He used to talk about his Junior days quiet fondly. And would sometimes mention a cute skater from Japan who he considered a good friend.”

Yuuri looked confused.

“Cute Japanese skater…being you?” Viktor clarified, his ears turning slightly red.

Yuuri blushed ( _Viktor called him cute!)._ They continued walking.

“I think…figure skating is somewhat of a lonely sport. People come and go, and even when you see familiar faces year over year, you know deep down that with time they will be gone from the skating scene—y _ou_ will be gone from the skating scene. And then you have youngsters popping out of nowhere, snatching medals from under your nose, because they have better choreography, better costumes, better jumps.”

And wasn’t that the truth. Yuuri had to agree with Viktor. Take the nineteen year old Seung-gil Lee from Korea for example. This year was his first time in the Grand Prix series yet he was the first to land a ratified quadruple-loop at the age of seventeen.

“Of course you compete against other people. But you always fight against time—it’s the sport of the young after all. So you also compete against your own body. And then the smallest mistakes can cause grave injuries, cutting careers short. Even when you are the brightest star out there, one day you’re the champion. The next day—you’re not,” Viktor continued talking, looking wistful.

Yuuri’s thoughts went automatically to Cao. Didn’t Yuuri say something similar before? That the brightest stars burnt the quickest? Yuuri was slightly surprised how Viktor’s words seemed to resonate with his own thoughts.

“Anyway, I think…I think you made it less lonely for Chris. And as his friend, I wanted to say thank you for that. You know what he told me last year?  He said that he didn’t deserve his GPF gold medal.”

Yuuri snapped his head towards Viktor.

“What? Why would he say—he was seven points ahead of me! What do you mean he thinks he doesn’t deserve his medal?” Yuuri asked shocked.

“Maybe it’s for the exact same reason as you don’t think you deserve yours?” Viktor’s eyes were piercing and calculating as if they could see straight through him. Yuuri looked away.

“It all comes down to Cao Bin, doesn’t it?” Yuuri flinched. He didn’t think Viktor knew about him.

“You two are _ridiculous_. A medal is a medal. Mistakes happen and they cost and it just so happens that it cost the Chinese skater the last medal of his career. So what? Do you see him wallowing in self-pity? He is finishing his rehab. He is working towards his coaching license. There is always— _always—_ another way. Meanwhile, you and Chris are here, still hung up on what had happened. Or at least _you_ are.”

“You don’t understand!”

“Then explain it to me again!”

Makkachin whined softly, nudging her nose into Viktor’s hand, and then doing the same thing to Yuuri. For once he ignored her, pushing her away gently.

“Yuuri,” Vikor said his name not unkindly. “Chris issued you a challenge, didn’t he? He made his move. Are you going to let him take the gold medal from you?”

“No,” Yuuri answered firmly, looking back into Viktor’s eyes. Yuuri was competitive. And Yuuri was petty. He sure was not going to take it down sitting, even if Chris was his friend.

“Good. You’re not done surprising us are you, Yuuri Katsuki?”

Yuuri wasn’t sure what had just happened. It didn’t feel like anything was resolved. But he suddenly felt motivated to skate.

Viktor kneeled down to pet Makkachin.

“I—I have to go,” Yuuri stammered out. The baker nodded, giving him a wave.

Yuuri stood there for a moment longer. He reached out to pet Makkachin one last time. Viktor looked up at him in amusement.

“Thanks, Viktor.”

“I didn’t do anything. But you’re welcome,” the other man said, looking back at his dog.

Yuuri stared at the top of Viktor’s head. He wasn’t sure what made him do it but he pressed down with one finger on the hair whorl on the Russian’s head. They both froze. _What had just happened?_

Viktor’s hands slowly rose to cover his hair.

“Is it…getting that thin?” Viktor asked quietly.

“No, no, no! Your hair is very shiny and thick!” Yuuri flailed around.

“You wound me, Yuuri. I—I don’t think I can recover,” Viktor said, hugging Makkachin.

“ _Nonono,_ I’m so sorry!” Yuuri said falling to his knees.

“You will have to make it up to me now,” Viktor said, one eye peeking out from where his face was pressed into Makkachin’s fur.

“Anything! I’ll do anything!” Yuuri exclaimed immediately.

Viktor perked up, pulling out his phone from his pocket.

“Then follow me back on Instagram!”

Yuuri froze up again. After Viktor followed his account, Yuuri ignored the notification, not knowing what to do—what it meant. But now with Viktor’s gaze fixed on him, Yuuri brought out his phone and opened the app. He found Viktor’s account and clicked on the _Follow_ button. Viktor smiled when he got a notification on his iPhone, his mouth taking on the heart shape again.

Yuuri curiously skimmed through Viktor’s account. Just as Makka’s account was mostly of Makkachin, and the _Stammi Vicino_ account was mostly shots of the bakery, Viktor’s accounts was full of pictures of Viktor ( _duh)_. Viktor and food, Viktor and pastries, Viktor shirtless ( _oh wow_ ), Viktor in the gym, Viktor baking, Viktor with Yuri, Viktor with Makkachin, Viktor, Viktor, Viktor. Yuuri scrolled through the account, stopping at one particular picture. It was one of the first few pictures that the other man had uploaded. In the photo Viktor, Yuri, and Otabek were standing in front of a small bakery. Viktor had his arms around Yuri and Otabek. Yuuri smiled to himself. The baker looked a little bit chubbier in this photo, his cheeks rounder, his hair a bit longer. But his eyes were the same, his smile as warm as ever. Frankly, he looked adorable. Yuuri pressed the like button.

Viktor let out a whine, looking at Yuuri incredulously. Makka responded to him with her own confused yip. Yuuri looked over at the silver-haired man.

“Why that picture? I look so fat in it.”

“What? You look cute—” Yuuri slapped his hand over his mouth. Viktor pouted but blushed something fierce.

“Try keeping fit when you are a baker. The amount of sugar I consume on a daily basis is insane,” he said while starting to like Yuuri’s photos one by one.

Yuuri looked back to his phone. He believed Viktor. Yuuri himself tended to gain weight easily if he didn’t keep up with his exercise regime. He liked one of Viktor’s more recent pictures in which the Russian was jogging with Makkachin at his side. The photo was taken somewhere in Detroit. Yuuri thought he recognized the river bank.

“You seem fit enough to me,” Yuuri said, currently looking closely at one of the photos of a busy street at night, reminding him a little bit of the Ginza district in Tokyo. The caption underneath the post read ‘ _With the champions’._

“I had a touch-and-go moment a few years ago. The doctor told me I should take better care of my health.”

“What happened?” Yuuri asked horrified.

“Just kidding. It was just appendicitis. But after that episode, Yura took it upon himself to manage my diet and Otabek my exercise regime. I couldn’t tell them no, so here I am, still running after four years,” Viktor said, continuously going through Yuuri’s account and liking his posts.

“And done!” he exclaimed, after reaching the final picture. “You can do it too, you know?” Viktor winked at him. ”Like all my pictures, I mean.”

“Viktor, you have like a thousand of them.”

“You better start then.”

Yuuri shook his head, smiling. He put away his phone and petted Makkachin over her head.

“I really have to go now. It’s getting late.”

Viktor smiled back.

“Don’t let me keep you. I’ll see you.”

“See ya.”

Neither moved.

Yuuri finally got up, taking one step back. Then another. He turned around, jogging away.

He turned back once, surprised to see that Viktor was still standing there, looking in his direction. Yuuri waved hesitantly, Viktor waving back with twice the excitement.

Yuuri’s cheek flushed and he couldn’t stop smiling, not throughout the rest of his run, or during the bus ride, or even when he arrived at his destination. Phichit would probably tell him that they had another _moment._

The Detroit Skating Club building looked intimidating at night. Yuuri moved to open the door but found it locked. No surprises there. He tried again but the doors only shook with a metallic sound.

He adjusted the straps of his backpack wondering what he should do now, when he got caught in the headlights of an approaching car. He looked back, shielding his eyes from the glare. The car drove past him parking a little to the side, the driver turning off the engine. Celestino stepped out of the car, dressed in comfortable clothes, holding a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Ciao Ciao, what are you doing here?” Yuuri asked surprised. His coach walked up to him, waving a pair of keys.

“Shall we skate, Yuuri?” he asked with a smile, unlocking the doors.

Yuuri was still rooted to his spot.

His coach held the door for him.

“After you.”

Much later, after Yuuri finally managed to land three consecutive clean quad-flips, he skated up to Celestino.

“Thank you, coach,” he managed to choke out. Celestino looked off to the side but still reached out to ruffle his hair.

“Anytime, kiddo.”

* * *

  **christophe.gc**

Today 12:32 AM

[video of Yuuri landing a quad flip]

Challenge accepted

_Seen 8:30 AM_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Where to even begin.
> 
>  _Ousama_ – [Japanese] can be translated as “King.” The hamster was named after the King from The King and the Skater. Arthuria used to be called Arthur until Phichit figured out she was a female hamster.  
>  _Bakemono_ – [Japanese] monster. If you recall, Chris called Yuuri and Phichit ‘monsters’ in the Cup of China chapter. Chris using Japanese though would show that he was addressing Yuuri specifically.
> 
> I’m working on a companion fic to this story so that we can see everything from Viktor’s point of view. I’m low-key excited about it. Hopefully if you have any questions, they will either be answered in the other fic or in the next few chapters of the current story.
> 
> Oh, and chubby Viktor? It’s a thing now. That’s totally going to be a tag.
> 
> I hope that the addition of Cao Bin wasn’t too gimmicky. 
> 
> Jae-seok is a name I gave to a random Korean skater. He is going to show up once in the companion fic but doesn’t have a large enough role to raise him to a status of an actual OC.
> 
> Finally, apologies! The final chapter count is probably going to increase by 1 or 2 chapters.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Until next time.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they watch the Rostelecom Cup, Yuuri meets an old idol, and there is singing.

Just as Yuuri stepped out of the apartment building, there was a deafening sound of wood hitting the pavement, like a clap of thunder, followed by a hissed out word loud enough for Yuuri to make out something that sounded like ‘ _blood_.’

He leaned over, still hidden by the wall of the bakery expecting to see the Russian Punk. Instead he was surprised to recognize Viktor. Yuuri shot back inside the apartment foyer, glad he hadn’t been spotted yet. Yuuri fought down the blush when he thought back to their encounter a few days ago. Against his better judgment, he had been slowly making his way down the Russian’s Instagram and liking his picture _(yes, even the shirtless ones)_. He was so red now people could probably mistake him for the traffic light. Why was he hiding anyway?

Maybe Phichit was right. They did have a _moment_.

The night of his late training, after Celestino had kicked him out after midnight and drove him home, Yuuri quietly made his way back into the apartment. Phichit was on the couch, clearly having nodded off while waiting for Yuuri. His three hamsters were sleeping on his lap but woke up when they heard Yuuri’s approach. He didn’t want to wake his friend up but he fell asleep in an uncomfortable position with his neck bent at an awkward angle that would probably hurt the next day. Yuuri first grabbed the hamsters who came with him without the usual fuss. After he deposited them into their cage he came back, coaxing the other skater awake and leading him back to his bedroom. Phichit wordlessly crawled into his bed, Yuuri tucking him in.

“You’re ok?” Phichit asked him quietly.

“Yes, sorry I worried you.”

“No biggie. That’s what friends are for, right?” he murmured, falling back asleep. After a comment like that the only thing Yuuri could do was to throw out the jar of olives he kept in the fridge. He crawled into his bed right after, falling asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

He peeked his head around the corner again after his blush died down. Viktor was now crouching, trying to hold up the blackboard sign with one hand and draw with the other. He gave up with an explosive sigh dropping the chalk into a small container at his side. Yuuri could see a piece of paper on the ground, held down by the box of chalk, most likely to prevent it from floating away. Viktor struggled to have the sign stand upright on its own again. Why he couldn’t simply set it down flat on the ground before drawing, Yuuri wasn’t sure.

His eyes moved from the back of the other man’s head, slowly trailing down the expanse of his back to his very fine— _OKAY! Pure thoughts, Yuuri, pure thoughts._ He looked to his left entertaining the thought of going the roundabout way when there was another thunderous clap, followed by an even louder ‘ _merde’!_ That word Yuuri did understand, Chris having said it enough times in his company.  

Making up his mind, he patted down his hair before closing the apartment door, making his way over to Viktor.  

“ _Blyat_ —” Viktor exclaimed when Yuuri popped up from behind him. “Yuuri!” his irritated expression changed into a grin.

Yuuri busied himself adjusting the sign, ignoring how his cheeks flushed. How can anybody look that adorable? 

“Hi Viktor. I can hold this up for you.” 

“No, it’s ok. I could just lay this down on the”—he fidgeted with the board, trailing off. The Russian looked up at him. “Why are you out so early? Is it for your training? I don’t want to keep you away from it.” 

“It’s fine. I have time. Come on, do your thing.” 

Viktor looked at him, the lights from the bakery throwing deep shadows over his face making it hard for Yuuri to read his expression. A heavy beat later Viktor looked down again.

“If you insist,” Viktor said. He grabbed the piece of paper and orange chalk and started drawing out the design on the board. Upside down Yuuri could still make out a Jack-o’-lantern and some of the words like ‘ _Halloween’_ and _‘special’_. 

“You do realize that Halloween is over, right?” Yuuri asked watching mesmerized as Viktor stuck out his tongue in concentration while he continued to color in the pumpkin. 

“You know how there is—what do you call it—Christmas in July? Yura thinks we should do Halloween-until-Christmas specials. How those two things relate, I have no idea but I trust him. He is the one more in tune with the kids these days.”

Yuuri chuckled. “ _Kids these days?_ How old are you? Oh, I see how it is. Your hair isn’t just silver, is it?”

It took a while for Viktor to react as he was carefully writing out letters but then he gasped, dropping the chalk to the ground to cover his hair.

“Are you saying my hair is grey? Yuuri! First you tell me it’s thinning and now that I’m an old man. I can’t take this abuse anymore!” Yuuri laughed out loud, quickly muffling it behind his hand. Maybe he shouldn’t make fun of the most beautiful man in the world 

“I’m sorry.” 

“No, don’t be” Viktor smiled again, going back to his drawing as if it was nothing. He turned it around for Yuuri to see. 

“What do you think?”

“Looks good. Yura must be onto something here. I already feel like ordering a pumpkin spice latte.” 

“He’s good at that. Now turn it around I need to do the other side too.” Yuuri was surprised how comfortable he felt just standing there while Viktor drew the design. He stared at Viktor’s hair whorl, feeling a sudden urge to touch it again.

“Done!” Viktor exclaimed proudly. Together they made the board stand upright. “Can I offer you anything? Food, drinks? Pumpkin spice latte?” Yuuri shook his head.

“No, I’m all right. But thank you.” They stood there staring at each other. 

“What?” Yuuri asked looking away before glancing back 

“Nothing.” Viktor said smiling. The sun began to rise on the horizon, brightening up the sky above them. The sunlight softened the previously hard shadows on Viktor’s face. Yuuri looked into his eyes, marveling at how beautiful they looked. There was something reflected in them, something he didn’t understand and couldn’t name but that made his heart clench.

 “Oi!” A harsh voice came from the bakery, the other Yuri stalking out of a shop with a white take-out cup in hand. His hair was tied back in a high ponytail and he had a white apron thrown over his uniform.

“You!“ he said, walking up to Viktor. Viktor sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Back to the kitchen with you.”

“Yes, _mama,”_ Viktor said sarcastically, huffing away not before sending Yuuri a smile and a wave. 

Yuuri watched as Viktor disappeared into the bakery, eyes following through the window. Did they just have _another moment?_ Should he start keeping track of them in a journal?

“You—“ other Yuri’s voice brought him back to the present. 

“Yes, sir?!” The blond raised one of his eyebrows, his expression softening a bit into reluctant amusement.

“Here,” he passed the cup he was holding to Yuuri. 

“Ah, thank you. I don’t drink coffee.”  

Russian Yuri rolled his eyes.

“It’s tea, dummy. Good luck in training,” he said, his ears reddening slightly. Yuuri’s lips quirked in amusement watching the other Yuri stomp back inside the bakery.  

He took the first sip of the tea, eyes widening at the familiar taste of genmaicha, the beverage warming him up in the chilly morning. Yuuri wasn’t sure what he did to deserve this but he wasn’t going to complain. He walked to the bus stop with a little bit of a spring in his step.

* * *

Yuuri entered the final movements of his free skate, building up the speed. He took off counting the rotations in his head.

 _One, two, three, four_ — he crashed to the ice, pushing himself up by his hands to finish the sequence. He brushed off the ice from his pants, frowning. Enough rotations, and he landed on his skates, but still crashed. That would have probably earn him a -2 deduction. He sighed laying his hands on his hips.

He skated over to where Phichit and Celestino were watching the replay of his jump on an iPad.

“Take a five, Yuuri,” Celestino told him. “Phichit, show me your quad-toe-loop again.”

The Thai nodded, skating away. Yuuri leaned against the rink wall, taking a sip from his water bottle. He watched as Phichit nailed his jump and then cheered when the other skater succeeded in landing his quad-toe-double-toe-loop combination as well.

“I’m going to have him learn the quad-salchow next season,” Celestino said mostly to himself, re-watching the footage. Yuuri smiled as Phichit skated over. They high-fived.

“How was it?” Phichit asked grabbing Yuuri’s water bottle.

“You have it down, kiddo. Both of you, two laps around the rink and then cool down exercises. We’re done for today.”

“Can I go one more time?” Yuuri asked.

At Celestino’s nod, Yuuri moved to the center of the ice going through his sequence again. He pushed off counting the rotations in his head again— _one, two, three, four_ —this time landing cleanly. He grinned through the final movements of his free, feeling so elated that he flailed at the end, forgetting to finish with his hands cusped in front of him. Rather he made a wide move, like he was reaching out above. He turned it into fist pumps, startling a laugh out of Phichit.

“Interesting way of finishing,” Celestino said amused. “All right, now go wind down.”

* * *

“Yuuri!”

Yuuri leaned back, catching sight of a smiling Viktor who had just came out of the café. Yuuri took out the earbuds in his ears, smiling back.

“Hi Viktor.”  

The baker started collapsing the board outside the bakery.

 “You’re closing early?” Yuuri asked him.

“Yep, just for today.” Viktor leaned on the blackboard. “Rostelecom Cup. We were going to watch and cheer for Gosha.”

“Who?”

“Ah, Georgi Popovich?”

“Phichit and I were planning on doing the same thing. Watch Rostelecom I mean.”

“I know! I wanted to ask if you’d like to join us at our place instead.”

“Eh?”

“I was texting Phichit about it right before you came back—”

Yuuri’s phone pinged with a text. He glanced at it.

> phichit: SAY YES!!!!

“Okay?” Yuuri agreed, messaging back Phichit at the same time (Yuuri: ?????!!!!). “Let me just drop off my bag.”

“Sure,” Viktor smiled. “I can drive us so take your time. Let’s meet back here in…30 minutes, _da_?”

Yuuri nodded trying to open the door and missing the keyhole a few times. He looked back catching Viktor staring at him. More specifically. He was staring at his…legs? Duffel bag? Yuuri twisted around trying to see if he had anything embarrassing on his pants or bag. Having been caught staring the other man turn bright red. He covered his mouth with one hand looking away and used the other to give Yuuri a weak wave. Still not looking at him, he picked up the sign and brought it into the shop. Yuuri decided to shelve that interaction for later analysis.

Opening his apartment, Yuuri shrieked. Phichit was standing right in front of the door, apparently waiting for him.

“You,” his friend said vehemently.

“Me?” Yuuri squeaked out.

“Shower. Now.” Phichit ushered him into the bathroom.

Yuuri took a quick shower in a confused state. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he realized that he forgot to bring in his clothes. Letting out a sigh he opened the door to the bathroom just to shriek again as the Thai skater was standing right outside of it.  A small pile of clothes was pushed into his arms before he got turned around and pushed back inside the bathroom again. Yuuri put on the clothes that Phichit picked out for him; just a pair of dark jeans and a slightly oversized grey sweater. One of his favorite actually. He was just surprised Phichit didn’t make him dress in something more extravagant. This time when he stepped out of the bathroom, he wasn’t as surprised to be accosted again. Phichit ushered him back inside, the Thai skater grabbing some hair pomade and sleeking his hair back for him. Yuuri reached up to take off his glasses but his friend stopped him.

“Keep them on.” Phichit said quickly brushing his own hair with a wet comb. He had already changed into a pair of grey jeans, black turtle neck shirt, and a long dark grey cardigan that reached his thighs.

“We’re going for effortless casual look tonight, okay?”

Yuuri didn’t get his friend sometimes but he could appreciate his help with choosing the clothes. He looked at the time.

“We have to go!” he went to grab his sports jacket but Phichit was there again to wrangle it out of his hand.

“What would you do without me?” his friend asked exasperated, passing him a black coat that Yuuri rarely used.

“Be on time for once?! Come on, Viktor’s waiting,” Yuuri said putting on his socks and nicer pair of shoes.

“Yeah, don’t let your _boyfriend_ wait, you walking fashion disaster,” Phichit muttered under his nose locking the door up while shrugging on his own coat. Viktor was already waiting outside, looking at his phone. In the other hand he held a cake box. He had thrown on a brown trench coat over his _Stammi Vicino_ outfit and even Yuuri recognize that it was Burberry. He turned around when Phichit called out to him.

“You guys rea—“ he cut off with a dazed look.

“Sorry it took so long,” Yuuri said apologetically.

“All for a good cause,” Phichit added coming up next to him. “Ready?”

Viktor nodded still silent. He didn’t make a move, still staring at Yuuri.

“Viktor?” That seemed to shake him out of whatever daze he was in.

“Y-yes,” the Russian’s voice cracked a bit. He cleared his throat. “I—I’m parked this way.”

They started walking, Yuuri squished between the two figures. Phichit ( _bless him_ ) kept up a stream of chatter until they got to the car, then kept up a stream of chatter inside the car while Viktor fiddled with his keys. Yuuri had pushed his friend to ride shotgun, scrambling into the back seat. He quickly realized his mistake when he settled right behind Viktor’s seat. Their eyes met through the rear mirror. It would be weird if he moved over now, right? He buckled up just as Viktor started the engine, the radio turning on. Yuuri was pleasantly surprised to hear the familiar voices of the singers from Arashi.

He was trying to recall the name of the song when his body got violently thrown back, all thoughts of Arashi flying out of his mind with Viktor backing out of the parking spot, nearly taking out a trash can on the way out. He then did an illegal turn and dashed away with a screech of the tires. Even Phichit couldn’t keep talking in the face of the terror of being subjected to Viktor’s driving skills. Or lack thereof. Viktor in turn suddenly got his voice back and talked over the music throughout the whole ride. The drive was relatively short but felt like it simultaneously dragged on and ended unnaturally quickly. _Did they just break the sonic barrier?_ The skaters scrambled out of the car, Phichit running into Yuuri’s arm holding on to him for dear life ( _never again, Yuuri. Never again_ ). Viktor oblivious to their terrified faces grabbed his cake box, locked the car, and led them up to his house.

“Welcome to our humble abode,” Viktor said pushing the door wide open.

Phichit was the first to enter the house, looking around curiously. He hung his coat on the coat rack and disappeared inside the living room.  Yuuri and Viktor did that awkward dance where you both want the other person to go in first so you just stand there without moving. And then you both take a step forward together which causes both of you to stop so you’re back to standing awkwardly in front of the door.  Yuuri wanted to slap himself on the forehead. Finally, Viktor took a deliberate step back with an embarrassed laugh, extending his hand in the ‘please, go ahead’ gesture. Yuuri bowed a few times to thank him. He tossed a glance back at Viktor just to make sure that the man was still standing there before walking through the doorway, taking a cursory glance around the hallway. It looked pretty ordinary as far as hallways went, without any decorations.

“May I take your coat?” Viktor’s voice came from behind him giving him a start.

“Uhm—sure,” he said. He had just finished unbuttoning it when Viktor’s hands brushed against his shoulders, helping him out of the coat.

“T-thank you!” he stammered out.

“You’re welcome. You look very nice today…I mean—not that you don’t look nice all the time. That is—”

“Oh,” Yuuri blushed thanking Phichit. “Thank you?” He rubbed at his arm. “Where is Makkachin?”

Viktor looked grateful at the change of subject. “Makka?” Viktor called out while hanging their coats up.

In response there was a loud meow. Yuuri looked down where a familiar looking cat stared back at him, tail swishing behind. It turned around and went back into the living room where it came from.

“Makkachin?” Viktor called out again leading Yuuri into the room.

Other Yuri greeted them with a glare while picking up the white cat. Phichit was busy cooing and taking pictures of it. The cat seemed to know what it was doing as it moved its head to one side, then the other to show off its profile from different angles.

“Otabek took your mutt out for a walk. She was getting restless. Hey,” the last word seemed to be directed at Yuuri.

The Japanese skater waved hesitantly, “Hi Yuri.” Feeling brave he came closer. “Is this your cat?”

“Yeah! Isn’t she the cutest?” the proud smile on the Russian face made him look five years younger. “Say hi, Potya.” The cat looked up at Yuuri and he couldn’t help but notice that her eyes were a green shade not unlike her owner’s.

“Hey Potya,” Yuuri said quietly, reaching out his hand and letting it hover in front of her face. Still looking at him, she leaned over to sniff at it. She finally leaned closer, butting her head against his hand. Yuuri smiled widely at the other Yuri ( _he had been chosen!_ ). The blond actually smiled back before setting down his cat who wrapped herself around his feet, did the same to Phichit, bopped her head against Yuuri’s ankle, and finally walked away, lying down next to the couch. She started cleaning her fur.

“By the way, nice socks, _katsudon._ ”

Yuuri looked down at his feet. He wriggled his toes. The socks he was wearing had grey and white stripes with a cartoony face of a corgi at the toes—one of Phichit’s more useful purchases.

“Thanks. They have cat ones too actually—Did you just call me _katsudon?_ ”

“Should we start bringing in the food?” Viktor asked peeking his head out from what Yuuri assumed was the kitchen.

“Let us help,” Phichit said making his way over, but Yuri dragged him back violently by his arm.

“Are you fucking serious? You’re guests. Sit down and don’t move! Would you like anything to drink?” he asked at the end. Phichit exchanged looks with Yuuri.

“Water is fine?” his friend answered. The Russian nodded looking over to Yuuri.

“Same for me.” Yuri rolled his eyes, walking away.

After a minute Phichit shrugged, plopping himself into the only armchair. Yuuri sat down on the couch closer to his friend, taking a good look around the living room. The walls of the room were painted white, with frames and pictures hung haphazardly around. Yuuri twisted his body around noticing that there was a rectangular patch on the wall next to the kitchen that looked a little bit whiter than the rest of the wall. As if something had previously been hanging there but was recently removed.

The couch Yuuri was sitting on was a deep blue color. Phichit was sitting in a brown, leather armchair while the love seat across from him was a horrendous purple color with leopard print arm rests. Yuuri physically tore his eyes from it to look at the wooden coffee table in front of him. It was long and wide and made of wood similar to the countertop a _t Stammi_. Overall, the décor of the room looked exactly as if three people with different tastes couldn’t decide on one style so they combined all of them together.

Potya jumped up on the couch with a _mrf_ and walked over to Yuuri, plopping down right next to him. He brushed his hands over her back receiving a loud purr ( _he had been chosen!!)_.

Across from the blue sofa was a large flat screen TV already set to the sports channel but left on mute. Phichit grabbed the remote off of the coffee table pushing some button.

_“The men’s short program is about to start here in Moscow. Here is where the rankings stand after the fifth event, Trophée de France. Only the top six skaters will advance to the Grand Prix Final. There are three confirmed qualifiers so far are: Yuuri Katsuki of Japan who placed second in both Skate Canada and the Cup of China, Phichit Chulanont of Thailand who placed third in Skate America and won the Cup of China. Finally, Christophe Giacometti who placed third in the Cup of China and first in the Trophée de France._

_And now the skaters fighting for the last three spots in the final—“_

There was a slam of the front door, followed by loud barking. Potya looked up before turning back and rubbing herself more into his thigh ( _he had been chosen!!!_ ). At the same time Viktor and Yuri stepped out of the kitchen carrying plates and bowls and setting them down on the coffee table.

“Look, _deda_ is on. He’s looking healthy,” Viktor said. Yuuri glanced back at the TV where the announcer was introducing Georgi Popovich, who was listening intently to his coach, the legendary Nikolai Plisetsky.

“Yeah,” other Yuri simply responded with a smile.

Otabek walked in, Makkachin running a circle around him before dashing over to first nose at Phichit then jumping on the couch and trying to get to Yuuri’s face to greet him. Potya offended by the commotion jumped off of it to join Phichit on his side. The Thai skater picked her up onto his lap.

“Hey Makkachin!” Yuuri laughed. “I missed you too, girl.”

Otabek walked around the couch to shake hands with Phichit.

“Hey Otabek,” Yuuri said from under pile of fur that was the poodle.

“Hi Yuuri,” the other man greeted him with an amused smile.

“Beka! Help me with the rest of the stuff,” Russian Yuri called out from the kitchen.

Viktor hesitated a bit before sitting down on the other end of the sofa with Yuuri. They looked at each other. Makkachin laid down between them.

“Wow, this looks good.” Phichit looked over the assortment of food currently on the table, pulling out his phone to take pictures. There was an enormous tray with bite size sandwiches ( _They’re called canapes!_ Yuri hissed out later when Yuuri tried to compliment him on the food), a bowl of salad, some small pastries ( _Petit four_ , Viktor said proudly, _From Stammi, of course_ ), assortment of veggies and two bowls of hummus, and a small box of chocolate (Phichit: _Feltsman limited edition Bon Bons???_ ). Otabek brought out glasses of water for everybody, Yuri following after with a large bowl of popcorn ( _low calorie, no butter)_.

“Yuri made all of this,” Viktor said with a proud smile.

“Beka helped,” the other Russian added under his nose. “Come on—eat. Everybody eat!” Otabek and Yuri settled down on the loveseat across from Phichit, everybody turning their eyes towards the TV screen.

First up was Seung-gil Lee (Yuri: _he looks like a chicken,_ Otabek: _triple-lutz-triple toe loop, no mistakes there,_ Viktor: _Yuuri is better_ , Yuuri: [blush], Phichit: _Go Seung-gil!_ ).

Next was Emil Nekola (Yuri: _when is he going to shave off his stupid goatee_ , Otabek: _kind of lack luster_ , Viktor: _Yuuri is much better_ , Yuuri: [BLUSH], Phichit: _Go Emil!_ )

Mikhail Mostovich, first of coach Plisetsky’s skaters, started off the second group (Yuri: _Goddammit Misha, what the hell?!_ Otabek: _That must have hurt_ , Viktor: _Oh no…_ , Yuuri…, Phichit: _Go Mikhail?_ )

Michele Crispino rounded up the second group (Yuri: _So like can someone tell me what’s going on between the Crispino twins?_ Otabek:…, Viktor: _Nice combination_ , Yuuri: _They’re just close_ Phichit: _lol, define close. Oh, and go Michele_ ).

Jean-Jacques Leroy skated fifth (Yuri: _I hate this guy,_ Otabek: _He isn’t bad,_ Viktor: _Solid performance,_ Yuuri: _JJ is good_ , Phichit: _He is a tool_. _But go JJ!_ )

Lastly, it was time for Georgi’s performance (Yuri: _Georgi, what the heck?_ Otabek: _I guess he hasn’t got back with Anya,_ Viktor: [laughs hystericall _y] Gosha can be too much sometimes,_ Yuuri: _…,_ Phichit:…)

“Well, what you would expect I guess,” Yuri said as the screen displayed the current standing in men’s singles after the short program. “The free is where it counts anyway.”

“I heard rumors that Popovich is planning to retire after this season. Isn’t he turning 28 next year?” Phichit said stuffing his face with another canape.

“Yeah, he is practically a fossil,” Yuri muttered, getting up.

“Hmmm,” Viktor said from his spot on the couch, finger tapping his lower lip. Yuuri couldn’t tear his eyes away from the view. “Last time I talked to him, he said he wanted to switch to coaching,” Viktor continued, now carding his hand through Makkachin’s fur.

“Wait, how do you know that?” Phichit asked. “People are saying he is going to switch to ice shows.”

Viktor grinned, grabbing the passing by Yuri by his arm and making him flail and sit on the sofa armrest. The blond growled at him but didn’t move.

“The two of us grew up with Georgi Popovich and Mila Babicheva, actually.”

“What?” Yuuri and Phichit asked at the same time.

“Yeah, back in Moscow. Don’t trust what the media says. Georgi is even more extra than Viktor here, and Mila is a bag of crazy.”

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Phichit piped up from his spot. “You just admitted to being childhood friends with Georgi Popovich and Mila Babicheva. Like Mila? One of the best female skaters of our generation? You guys are also pretty knowledgeable about figure skating. Why is that?”

Viktor exchanged looks with Yuri and Otabek. Off to the side, Yuuri did the same with Phichit.

“I used to figure skate in my home country,” Otabek began, breaking the silence. “—in Kazakhstan. The sport was never that popular there and I couldn’t find a way to secure a sponsorship to train abroad.” The barista shrugged. “You know how it is. Skating is expensive and my father told me I should grow up and get a proper job.” Yuri patted his hand looking off to the side.

That was a familiar story. Yuuri had moments when he couldn’t afford that plane ticket or that hotel room for the next competition. But his parents always had a way to fill in the financial gaps between sponsorship deals, Minako-sensei chipping in whenever necessary. And Phichit…Phichit sent Otabek an understanding look. He told him once how his dad was against him figure skating. That if it wasn’t for his mum’s support he wouldn’t be where he was. Besides, skating in Thailand was tough—he was lucky to have caught the eye of somebody willing to train him and sponsor him before he came to Detroit.

“I got offered skating classes once,” Viktor chimed in, smiling brightly when it didn’t look like the Kazakh would continue. “Turned them down of course. The diet you athletes have to keep…” Viktor trailed off, shuddering. “I’ve always wanted to be a pastry chef anyway.”

Yuri stayed stubbornly silent. Otabek nudged him lightly with his shoulder.

“Ugh—fine! I used to skate too,” the blond finally grumbled out. “That’s my grandpa,” he said pointing vaguely at the TV screen where Georgi Popovich and Nikolai Plisetsky were being interviewed. It took Phichit and Yuuri a moment mulling over Yuri’s words before they shouted at the same time.

“You’re Yuri Plisetsky?!”

Potya jumped awake, hissing. She jumped off of Phichit’s lap swatting him with her tail. Makkachin moved her ears but kept her eyes closed. Yuri looked somewhat surprised at their reaction but hesitantly nodded in response.

“Yuri Plisetsky?!” Yuuri asked again looking closely at the other blond. The image did not match. Not between the tattoo ridden, earring wearing barista and the long-haired fourteen year old that smiled cheerfully from his spot on the podium, waving excitedly to the adoring audience. “ _The_ Yuri Plisetsky? Junior World Champion Yuri Plisetsky?”

“God—stop repeating my name. Yes, I’m Yuri Plisetsky. I used to skate. I don’t anymore. Happy?” He got back up stacking up the dirty plates and bowls before stomping to the kitchen. They watched him go with a mix of different expressions.

“Don’t mind him,” Viktor said kindly. “It’s sometimes a touching subject. Figure skating.” Otabek nodded, smiling reassuringly at Phichit who looked guilty about bringing up the topic. Yuuri turned back catching Viktor’s gaze. The silver-haired man nodded towards the other room, cocked his head to both sides and shrugged. Yuuri didn’t exactly understand what that meant, but he nodded and got up, gently nudging Makka off of his lap before grabbing a few more empty plates.

Other Yuri was aggressively washing the dishes, looking as if he was physically trying to rub the plate to dust with the sponge. Yuuri set down the dirty plates next to the sink and hovered hesitantly to the side.

“Go sit down. You’re a guest,” Yuri said grumpily, lathering up another plate with soap.

Yuuri shrugged, grabbing the dish from the blond’s hand when he was trying to jam it in between the other things in the drying rack. The blond hissed at him like a cat but Yuuri ignored him and started rearranging the dishes in a more orderly manner. They finally settled into a rhythm, with Yuri washing and rinsing the dishes and Yuuri organizing them in the dryer. Phichit came over with a few more things, sending Yuuri a questioning look. He shook his head to say that everything was okay. They were left alone again.

“Fuck, stop making that face. “

“What face?“

“I don’t know,” Yuri slammed a clean plate onto the counter. ”Like you fucking pity me or something. That’s why I didn’t want to say anything—“

“I’m glad you did! And it’s not pity! _Geez!_ What’s with you all stupid athletes—” Yuuri thought of Cao at the post series banquet. “I’m just…sad. I—I admired you before Juniors. We’re the same age but I wasn’t old enough to move out of Novices the same year as you. I was looking forward to competing against you but then you disappeared after Worlds. Viktor—he said that skating is a lonely sport. That even if you are the brightest star…one day you’re the champion. The next day you aren’t. He was talking about you, wasn’t he?  So pardon whatever face I’m making right now but I am just _fucking_ sad.” 

Yuuri fell silent, breathing heavily because it was so unfair.  _Why did the brightest stars burn the fastest?_

Is he going to disappear too? Ice skating was his whole life. What’s going to happen after that’s gone? What does ‘just Yuuri’ have besides skating?

“Hey, _katsudon_. Calm down” the Russian said, keeping his eyes on the running water. “I guess it worked out fine in the end. Don’t think the skating world could handle two Yuris.” Yuuri let out a snort at that. They finished washing what was left in a fragile silence.

“Thank you,” Yuri said so quietly at the end that Yuuri nearly missed it.

Otabek came up to them tapping Yuuri on the shoulder. “I can take over.” Yuuri nodded throwing one last glance at the Russian Yuri. They exchanged hesitant smiles.

Back in the living room Phichit was fiddling with his phone with Viktor nowhere in sight. Yuuri sat back down in his spot, absentmindedly petting Makkachin. He didn’t expect his evening to go like this. First was Viktor inviting them over to watch Rostelecom. Second was meeting Yuri-freaking-Plisetsky. Hopefully the blond would never find out that he and Yuuko have his Junior World routine memorized like the back of their hands. Or at least they used to. Phichit took the remote and muted the TV again.

“Yuuri,” Viktor reappeared shortly after. “Don’t move, okay?”

“Okay?” Yuuri ran his hand through Makkachin’s fur. Viktor looked like he didn’t believe him. He picked up Potya from her spot on the love seat ( _hiss_ ) and dropped her on Yuuri’s lap. After making sure that Yuuri couldn’t move even if he wanted to he went to the kitchen. Yuuri looked after him in bewilderment. But he wasn’t going to complain about being surrounded with so much animal love. He looked to Phichit for answers but his friend was _still_ fiddling with his phone ( _#animalwhisperer #manyfacesofkatsukiyuuri_ ).

And then the lights went off in the living room.

“Whoa! What’s going on?” Yuuri looked around. “Phichit, what are you doing? Are you actually filming—”

 _“Happy birthday to you”—_ Yuuri froze as a chorus of voices came from behind him. Makkachin sat up with curiosity.

“ _Happy birthday to you”—_ Phichit joined in from the side, glee evident from the tone of this voice. Yuuri was doing a great imitation of a deer caught in the headlights.

 _“Happy birthday, dear Yuuri/katsudon,”_ Viktor carefully set down a cake in front of him with a lot of candles on them.

 _“Happy birthday to you!”_ Makkachin joined them howling out the last note. Yuuri felt himself tearing up ( _because of Makkachin’s singing_ ). He looked at the birthday cake. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were exactly twenty four candles on it.

“Come on, Yuuri. Make a wish,” Phichit said.

“What—how? But it’s not my birthday.”

“We figured you would be too busy next week to have an actual party,” Viktor said excitedly. “Otabek suggested doing this early.”

“Guys, you didn’t have to.” Yuuri started getting overwhelmed.

“I wanted to—we wanted to” the Russian corrected after Yuri elbowed him.

“Come on, make a wish before the candles melt all over the cake,” Yuri hurried him.

Yuuri looked around once more. At their encouraging looks, he took a deep breath and blew out the candles, plunging them into temporary darkness. Otabek was the only one clapping as Yuri ran off to turn on the lights and Viktor and Phichit were busy taking out the candles. Viktor passed him a cutting knife.

“Wait, don’t cut it yet!” Phichit screamed. “We need a selfie.”

Yuuri set down the knife on the table, still lost for words.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Otabek said handing him the cake.

Yuuri looked around the room. Yuri had just returned with a selfie stick which he gave to Phichit, who expertly mounted Viktor’s iPhone to it. He then shooed Makkachin off of the coach taking his spot to Yuuri’s left. Potya jumped onto his lap and sniffed at the cake. Otabek circled the sofa to stand behind it, patting his thigh for Makkachin to follow him. She trotted after him, then stood on her hind legs leaning on the sofa backrest, panting excitedly right behind Yuuri’s head. Phichit pushed Viktor to pose behind the sofa as well. Viktor stood next to his dog, giving her ears a rub before clapping Phichit on the shoulder once he sat down right next to Yuuri.

Yuuri wasn’t sure what he was feeling. He was completely overwhelmed, and there was a large lump lodged in his throat, familiar yet so different from his pre-competition jitters. There was also warmth coursing through his whole body, like that first sip of hot tea on a chilly morning. It settled at the bottom of his stomach, a comforting weight not unlike that of a sleeping cat on his lap, or of a dog at his side.

“Ready, guys?” Phichit asked.

His smile was at first shaky. He didn’t know the name of the emotion he was currently feeling. But as his smile turned wider and more genuine when Makkachin licked at his ear and hair, and Otabek chuckled, and Viktor laughed, and Phichit said _smile!,_ and even Yuri looked over amused – Yuuri thought of at least one word to describe it.

* * *

 

> _v-nikiforov posted a picture_
> 
> [picture of Yuuri holding his birthday cake, surrounded by Phichit, Yuri & Potya, Otabek, Makkachin and Viktor]
> 
> **v-nikiforov** With the champions. Good luck at the GPF @katsuki-yuu  & @phichit+chu.  Too bad you couldn’t be here @christophe.gc 
> 
> #katsukiyuuri #phichitchulanont #detroitkings #withthechampions #gpfinal14
> 
> Liked by **yuri-plisetsky, otabek-altin** and **2,935 others**
> 
> **mila_babicheva** : OMG SO CUTE!!!
> 
> **yuri-plisetsky:** tag us in old man!!!
> 
> **christophe.gc** : awwww I’m missing out. Happy early birthday, Yuuri
> 
> _view all 235 comments_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _deda_ : [Russian] grandpa - according to google. I kinda forgot to mention early on in the story that Viktor and Yuri are cousins in this story.  
> Also, Viktor curses in Russian and French. The usual suspects, really.
> 
> On one hand I ask myself: is all this build up really necessary? When are they going to SMOOCH?  
> On the other hand though: yes—yes it is.
> 
> I’ve been misspelling ‘Rostelecom’ cup as ‘Rostelcom’ (facepalm).
> 
> Please don’t drive like Viktor. Oh, and the song they were listening to was [“Fuyu no Nioi”](http://yarukizero.livejournal.com/75126.html) by Arashi. Not really important but you can go look up the lyrics.
> 
> Until next time!!! Thank you so much for reading.
> 
> ed. 10/4/17 & 10/17/17 - fixed typos and some grammar. I'm slowly learning, guys.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are Instagram messages, more Amazon packages than you can count, and two people Talk. With a capital T.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instagram conversation formatting:  
> Text on the right is Yuuri.  
> Text on the left is Viktor.  
> [description] – describes the photo or the video recording  
> Centered are the dates and time of a conversation thread. If a conversation is broken up by a page break it means that it’s been a few hours since the last message but that the continuation of the thread happens in the same day. If there is no page break and it’s still the same day, it means that the messages have been sent within a short amount of time of each other (up to 1 hour).
> 
> Enjoy! Fluff galore.

**v-nikiforov**

November 24, 8:23 AM

Good morning Yuuri~

[Makkachin yawning from her spot at the end of the bed]

<3 <3 <3 good morning Makka!

Just Makka?  
(´∩｀。)

aww good morning Viktor

(ﾉ∀＼*)

* * *

Ready for our evening jog.

[Makkachin is sitting in the hallway, panting excitedly while looking up into the camera.  
Behind her, near the living room entrance, sits a very unimpressed looking Potya]

you two are so dedicated!

Potya doesn’t look too impressed tho

give her a chin scratch from me

She’s always judging.

Like her owner.

[photo of Yuri with an equally unimpressed look, taken at _Stammi_ ]

like owner like cat

or is it like cat like owner

good luck with the run!

November 25, 6:04 AM

[Makkachin curled up in the purple dog bed at _Stammi_ ]

!!!!!

Yuuri, I’m sorry I sent this so early!

<3 <3 <3

I hope I didn’t wake you up.

nah don’t worry i was already up

i keep my phone on silent though so it doesn’t bother me if you message me early or late

Okay! (｡･ω･｡)

But I will try to be more mindful!

Yura always tells me that I never think things through enough.

haha ok

are you baking now?

Yep!

[An oven filled with trays of croissants]

oh wow I can practically smell them

Stop by for some!

I cant!

(∩︵∩)

diet

Stop by for tea then!

Otabek says hi.

[Otabek holding up a tub of Yuuri’s favorite green tea brand  
and a plate of chocolate chip cookies]

you guys are horrible

November 26, 12:35 PM

[picture of a small group of college students holding up their mugs taken at _Stammi_.  
Yuri is standing at their side, thumbs up]

Halloween-special buyers.

Yura was right it seems

 _katsudon_ stop distracting the old man from his work

of course I’m always right

BTW it’s Yuri

Oh

Sorry, Yuri.

no I meant it’s Yuri typing not for you to stop calling m

ugh whatever

great now Viktor’s crying

good luck with training

Thank you!

* * *

[candid shot: Yuri and Otabek sitting on the blue sofa watching TV  
Potya sleeping on Otabek’s lap and Makkachin lying next to Yuri with  
her head on his knee. Yuri’s hand is on her fur]

Movie night.

[Phichit lounging on the sofa with a face mask]

spa night in the household

what are you watching?

_The King and the Skater._

Phichit gave us the DVDs a while ago.

[video recording:

Yuuri: hey Phichit, Viktor says they’re watching  
_The King and the Skater_ right no—

Phichit sits up straight, letting out a high-pitch sound,  
flailing around his hands in excitement,  
face mask dislodging from his face]

hahahahaha

phichit says to stop bothering you while you guys watch  
“the best movie ever”

You’re no bother at all, Yuuri.

But Yura told me to “put down the damn phone, Vitya.”

And also to tell you he says “hi”

Hi Yura!

Hi Otabek!

Ttyl.

Enjoy :)

November 27, 6:55 PM

[Makkachin with a dollop of whipped cream on her nose]

My assistant.

[Three hamsters sitting in a row on the kitchen table,  
each munching on a baby carrot]

dinner time!

from the left: Arthuria, Ousama, Mahjong

They’re adorable <3 <3 <3

Arthuria because of Arthur?

Yep!

What about Ousama?

Ousama means king in Japanese

Haha. Phichit really loves that movie, doesn’t he?

understatement of the century

Why Mahjong?

……………….

Yuuri?

(⊙_⊙)

What’s going on?

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

You’re scaring me…

( ͡° ͜ʖ├┬┴┬┴

Yuuri?!

November 28, 5:55 PM

[Celestino, Yuuri, Phichit and a number of other International

Students from the skating club around a table full of food]

Happy Thanksgiving from the Detroit Skating Club!

[Viktor, Yuri, Otabek at a restaurant raising wine glasses]

Happy Thanksgiving from the Nikiforov-Plisetsky-Altin household!

November 29, 5:55 AM

[Makkachin and Potya wearing party hats]

Happy birthday, Yuuri!!!!! [party popper emoji] x 3

Awwwww   <3 <3 <3 <3 thank you!!!

(ﾉ∀＼*)

 [photo taken from a bus,  
brightening sky right before the sunrise]

[brightening sky right before the sunrise,  
photo taken in front of _Stammi_ ]

[Viktor piping small dollops of whipped cream onto a row of pastries]

wish I could try them

After GPF!

after GPF

* * *

[Phichit doing a quad toe loop]

#proud #bff

[Otabek grinning at something off camera while  
pouring water into a pour over]

#coffeemaster #coffeewhisperer #futurecousininlaw

#shook

November 30, 7:45 AM

[video recording:

Viktor: are you filming?  
Yuri: Yes, get on with it!

Viktor holds a spoon high above his head and then sprinkles sugar  
in circular motions over a tray of cookies on the kitchen table]

like a magician!!!

(*´∀`*)

[candid shot: Viktor sitting on the sofa with Makkachin at his side,  
head bent over a notebook]

Pastry planning.

* * *

 Im sorry Viktor! Practice got busy

I understand! You don’t have to apologize!

I’m sorry I keep bothering you with my messages.

You’re never a bother, Viktor.

Your messages always make me happy.

Thank you.

How was practice?

ugh

I see…

December 1, 12:05 AM

i rewatched your routines again last night why are you so graceful elegant and talented???? youre an inspiration. I wish I could tell you how much I admire you in person but I chicken out every time. even yura says that your step sequence and spins have no match in the current figure skating world. If youre having trouble I wish I could nngjkdshfuewuihf my favorite part of your free routine is the middle part when you go from the spread eagle into the ina bauer  and your final combination spin is mazining! Like how od you even—

Sht

Yuuri, I’m so sorry. I dind’t mea to send such word vomit.

Please ignore this message!!!!

Don’t read it!

Delete it!

* * *

Yuuri?  
_seen Katsuki-yuu_

December 1, 8:45 AM

 [video recording:

Yuuri (off camera): are you recording?  
Phichit: yep!

Yuuri flies into the frame doing a combination spin,  
ending with his pose from the Free Skate  
hands cupped in front of his chest, holding something fragile]  
_seen v-nikiforov_

* * *

Thank you.

No, _thank you_

we’re going for a run!

 [selfie of Phichit and Yuuri in their jogging clothes]

Just finished ours!

* * *

Yuuri didn’t see Viktor’s message until much later.

After getting back from the run, Yuuri and Phichit each took a quick shower. While Yuuri was reheating their leftover food from last night’s dinner, Phichit cleared out some space on the coffee table to set out the plates and utensils. Somehow, the dinner conversation moved on to the topic of the Exhibition Gala.

“Aren’t we getting a little bit ahead of ourselves?” Yuuri asked skeptically.

“You’re ridiculous! You’re going into the GPF with the aim to win gold, of course you need to have an EX program ready!”

Yuuri stayed silent, eating a few more bites from his plate.

“What are you going to do if you win?” Phichit asked him.

“I don’t know…Skate my free again? Do an old program? Let me worry about the GFP first.”

“That’s so boring. As your friend I can’t let you do that. How about we skate something from _The King and the Skater?_ How about that?”

“First of all-we? Second of all-how about no.”

“I think it’s a brilliant plan,” Phichit continued as if Yuuri didn’t say anything. “If we create one EX program, we’ll be able to use it as long as one of us actually places on the podium.”

“But what happens if both of us earn a spot?”

“See, there you go. There’s that confidence I’m talking about! If that happens, then we skate our EX on _my_ turn, and you get to skate your boring old routines on your own.”

“Oh, thanks. Lovely idea,” Yuuri did not try to hide the sarcasm from his voice at his friend’s suggestion.

“So, thoughts. I’m willing to make sacrifices in the name of our friendship and learn some Arashi routine.”

“Phichit, no…”

The rest of the evening, even after they were done eating, was spent brainstorming ideas, some of them reasonable, others completely not. In his mind, Yuuri had already resigned himself to doing a pair exhibition skate with Phichit. It wasn’t common for men’s singles to dance with other skaters, but it did occasionally happen. Besides, Phichit’s enthusiasm was contagious. There was an idea brewing in the back of Yuuri’s mind but he didn’t want to share it with his friend yet.

Phichit was scrolling through his phone for inspiration when his face lit up.

“Yuuri, I have a great idea!”

Grief and headache tended to follow those words but the more Phichit talked, the more it started sounding like a good idea. They pulled up the old routine on YouTube, and it only took Yuuri two rewatches before he remembered the sequence of movements. They would have to make some adjustments to accommodate two people on the ice but it was definitely doable. Their discussion went well into the night before they decided to stop for the day. Phichit set down his notebook on the coffee table, stifling a yawn. They said their goodnights, going back to their own respective bedrooms.

Yuuri was on the verge of falling asleep when he remembered that he hadn’t charged his phone yet. He fumbled in the dark until he was able to plug in his phone, the screen lighting up, nearly blinding him. A number of unread messages and notifications flashed on the screen. He unlocked his phone, coming face to face with the last message from Viktor in response to his last picture.

**v-nikiforov**

December 1, 6:01 PM

Just finished ours!

Viktor sent him a selfie of himself with Makkachin. They were in a park, the sky and clouds lit up by the setting sun, giving the whole picture a soft quality. Viktor’s face was flushed, probably from the cold or from the run, his hair slightly disheveled. He was kneeling on the ground to get Makkachin in the shot. She had lifted her head up to lick him on the chin, which caused him to scrunch up his face in mid-laugh. They both looked adorable.

Yuuri stared at the photo, suddenly feeling _very, very_ awake, his heartbeat loud in his ears in the silence of his own bedroom.

 _Thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump_ it went like the _taiko_ drums during summer festivals in Hasetsu.

He rolled onto his back, still staring at the photo, his stomach performing a quad flip as his eyes traced over Viktor’s face. He clutched his phone to his chest. Without success, he tried to calm down his heart, which seemed to have moved from its _taiko_ performance into an erratic dance to the _On Love: Eros_ tune inside the confines of his rib cage. Just from the photo itself he could easily imagine Makkachin’s excited pants and her cheerful bark before she leaned up to lick Viktor’s chin in a show of doggy love. It was downright creepy how easily he could imagine Viktor’s laugh in response, a quick and bright sound before he said “ _Makkachin!”_ in a laughing tone with a hint of exasperation and tons of fondness.

Imagining the sound of Viktor’s voice, he recalled the many times the other man said his name—the way he dragged out the “u” a little bit longer than necessary along with the “I” at the end. The way he called out in greeting from the entrance to _Stammi Vicino_ , or when he tacked it on unnecessarily after a question, as if to make sure that Yuuri knew that it was specifically to him and nobody else.

In the safety of his own bedroom, at the godforsaken hours of the night when all his filters were off and that anxious voice in his head surprisingly quiet, Yuuri realized that he would love to hear Viktor say his name in many more situations.

He grabbed his hair, nearly hitting himself with the phone.

Imagining Viktor’s laugh reminded him of his smile, sometimes bright like the sun, other times small but no less genuine, like a secret to be shared between them. How easily he could imagine the other man perking up at receiving a message from him. How easily he could recall the exaggerated, but no less cute, pout whenever Yuuri teased him too much.

He thought of Viktor and his blue eyes that shined like stars.

His heart refused to calm down as Yuuri had trouble stopping the barrage of thoughts about Viktor flashing through his mind.

“Oh no,” he whispered into his room.

He clutched his phone harder to his chest, sitting up in a daze.

“Oh, _hell no_ ,” he said again, getting up. He trotted out of his room into Phichit’s without knocking. The Thai skater was already asleep but his hamsters were making lots of noises inside their cage, apparently feeling like a midnight run inside their spinners.

“Phichit—Phichit!” he hissed out, shaking his friend awake.

Phichit woke up with a start, looking at him sleepily.

“Yuuri? What-what’s wrong? Is everything all right?”

Yuuri looked at him still shell-shocked from his revelation.

“I—I think…I’m in love?”

His friend stared back at him blankly for at least a minute before taking a deep breath as if steeling himself, putting his face into his hands. The glare he leveled on him after he looked up again would have killed a lesser man.

It did not stop there.

Phichit reached behind his back, grasping one of his many pillows and then proceeded to hit Yuuri over the head and shoulders with it. Yuuri took it all without a fight, slowly lying down on top of Phichit’s bed, smothering his face into the mattress to cover up his incoherent screams, while his friend continued to hit him with the pillow.

This was _love,_ wasn’t it?

* * *

After waking up and having some extra time to mull over his thoughts from last night, Yuuri decided that he might have overreacted. Just a little bit. He had only known Viktor for about a month after all. He couldn’t really be in love, could he?

What he couldn’t deny any longer? He was truly attracted to the Russian baker, admiration moving dangerously into the Crush-with-a-capital-C zone.

He wasn’t just attracted to his looks either ( _although he still stood by the fact that Viktor was the most beautiful man in the world_ ). And it wasn’t just that he was the owner of Makkachin, the cutest dog on Earth ( _if they ever got married, would he be considered Makka’s second papa?)._ He liked Viktor’s smile, of course. He loved his adorable messages and his overuse of kaomoji. He liked that Viktor listened—listened attentively in a quiet understanding.

Yuuri thought that this was the first time he ever felt like he wanted to hold onto somebody. And he didn’t want to be presumptuous, but….it seemed like Viktor might also…kinda, maybe like him too? So maybe not like, _like_ _him, like him._ But the other man at least admired his skating. And called him all those nice things that still made him feel warm and fuzzy and blush from second-hand embarrassment. From the lack of his usual careful phrasing and formatting, it was quite blatant that Viktor didn’t mean to send that message to him. He hoped that the baker wasn’t too embarrassed about what happened.

The next day, Phichit was surprisingly quiet and did not mention Yuuri’s breakdown from last night. It was as if his friend had completely forgot about Yuuri’s dramatic declaration ( _which in hindsight should have set off a lot of red flags in Yuuri’s head_ ).  Yuuri figured that it was because they were too busy with last minute prep for Barcelona, Phichit wanting to get their Exhibition skate just right. On top of it, they had to submit their final papers and projects before GPF. Phichit was so far gone that he took to online shopping with a weird fervor. Yuuri couldn’t stop his friend’s tendency to stress-shop but he kept an eye on him in case things got really out of hand.

The Sunday a few days before they were due to fly out to Spain, they were working out the last details of their shared skating routine. As time went on, Phichit became quieter and quieter, more focused on his phone than on their notes. Yuuri took advantage of his distraction and worked out the kinks in his own EX. There really was nothing better than hiding in plain sight.

Phichit suddenly let out a loud yelp, jumping onto the couch and curling in on himself.

“Phichit, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Whatever his friend’s response was, it was muffled by the pillow that he had smashed against his own face.

“Phichit?”

“Yuuri, I can’t…”

He didn’t get his friend sometimes. It must be the stress talking.

“Do you want tea? I can make you some tea.” Tea was the solution for everything. Phichit nodded without looking at him.

He got up from his spot on the floor. Before going to the kitchen, he grabbed the blanket off of the sofa backrest and threw it over his friend, tucking him in. He got a weird smile in response before Phichit buried his head into his phone again.

Yuuri went to the kitchen to put on the kettle. While waiting for the water to boil, he went to grab the hamsters and brought them over to the other skater. They started running all over the blanket, jumping on Phichit’s head and then jumping off of it. His friend didn’t even react. Yuuri was getting more worried.

He went back to the kitchen, throwing the chamomile tea bags into two mugs and pouring water over them. He waited for the required four minutes for the tea to steep properly before discarding the bags in the trash can.

“Yuuri,” Phichit called out. Yuuri grabbed the mugs, coming back to the living room. He handed one to his friend, setting the other near his laptop.

The other skater sipped at the tea for a little bit before leaning over to put his mug on the table as well.

“I’m not feeling well,” he finally said. Yuuri looked at him with worry. That was not good. There was a small flu epidemic going through the college campus. This would be a terrible time for Phichit to get sick.

He patted his friend on the knee. “If you don’t feel better by tomorrow, let’s go to the doctor’s, okay?”

“I’m sick,” Phichit repeated, wrapping himself in the blanket, the hamsters cozying themselves in the nook between his neck and collarbone. “It means I can’t move from this spot. At all. Because I’m so sick.”

“Okay? Then don’t move,” Yuuri said, a nagging suspicion growing at the back of his mind.

“I won’t,” Phichit nodded. “Not even if there is a doorbell.”

Yuuri went to grab his mug. “Nobody ever rings our door—“

_Ding-dong_

Yuuri looked towards the apartment door then turned to Phichit who threw the blanket over his head, trying to physically meld into the couch.

_Ding-dong_

Yuuri got up, putting on his sneakers. He ran down the stairs, opening the front door.

Viktor looked up from his phone, smiling brightly at him. Yuuri’s stomach did a somersault.

“Viktor!”

“Hi Yuuri!”

“What are you doing here?”

Viktor fidgeted on the doorsteps, stuffing his phone back into his coat pocket, while balancing a few boxes in his arms. Yuuri slowly looked down to the ground where there were two large containers filled with _a lot of_ packages.

 _Oh no,_ he thought.

“I’m sorry. We started running out of space in the café for your packages.”

 _Oh hell no,_ Yuuri resisted the urge to bang his forehead on the wall.

“Phichit said it was okay for me to stop by. I know you’re busy with training, and studies, and everything else—”

“Viktor. You didn’t have to. You should have told us. Phichit was just being—”

“It’s really no problem! None at all. But apparently you ordered a few things that you two really needed before you left for Barcelona? I didn’t know which packages he meant, but Phichit was pretty adamant about getting them today.”

Phichit asked him a few days ago if he needed dog-shaped post-it notes to study better and Yuuri in a moment of weakness said yes.

“I…Yeah…very important…yes,” Yuuri said resigned. “Would you mind helping me bring all of these up?”

“Of course!”

Yuuri let Viktor go up first before grabbing one of the boxes and following him.

“It’s the door to your left.”

Viktor looked back briefly to make sure he got the correct place. At Yuuri’s nod he opened the door and walked in. Yuuri heard him exclaim, “Hey Phichit!”

Yuuri walked into the apartment, sending Phichit a death glare from behind Viktor’s back. Phichit blinked back at him innocently.

“Hi Viktor. Thank you so much for bringing us the packages on such a short notice. I was so worried that _Yuuri_ wouldn’t get that important _thing_ he needed for the GPF.”

“I’m here to serve,” Viktor said breathlessly. “Oh, let me go and grab the rest of them.”

Yuuri sent him a grateful smile. After Viktor left the apartment, Yuuri rushed towards Phichit, grabbing the hamsters and setting them down on the coffee table. He then snatched a sofa pillow and started hitting Phichit over his head ( _Yuuri, no—stop—ouch, I’m sick!)._

When Viktor returned with the last box of packages, Yuuri was standing with a serene smile next to the door again, while Phichit was picking himself up from the ground and back onto the sofa.

“Would you like some tea?”

“Tea? Uhm…No. But thank you for the kind offer.”

Standing face to face now, Yuuri noticed that Viktor looked somewhat disheveled. His usually neatly combed hair was in disarray and there was an adorable flush on his face. Looking down he also realized that the other man had his shirt buttoned up the wrong way.

“Actually…I’m here to talk to you, Yuuri.”

“Me?”

“Yes! Er… _dermo_. How did it went?” Viktor muttered to himself. “I wrote it down somewhere.” Viktor started going through the pockets in his coat and his pants looking for something. Yuuri exchanged looks with Phichit who was smiling gleefully at the scene, his phone out.

“Uhm…Viktor?”

“Yes?”

“Your shirt is…” Yuuri waved his hand at it.

Viktor sent him an adorably confused look before looking down at himself. He flushed even redder.

“O— _oooooh._ Oh dear, silly me…” Yuuri’s eyes widened as the other man started unbuttoning the shirt right in front of him. Words ( _of protest? Encouragement?)_ lodged themselves in his throat as he stared with no small amount of fascination as more and more of Viktor’s skin got exposed to his gaze as the man worked on unbuttoning his shirt with shaky hands.

A muffled laugh came from Phichit’s direction causing both Viktor and Yuuri to freeze up. Looking over they could see Phichit curled up with his face smooshed against the couch, body shaking with suppressed laughter.

“ _Er_ ….I’m sorry,” Viktor choked out. “I...let me just finish this—“

Yuuri looked at him, his own face still red from embarrassment ( _first hand? second hand? He didn’t even know anymore)._ He grabbed Viktor’s hands, gently lowering them. Viktor froze at his touch.

“I’ll help. My hands are pretty steady.”

“O-okay!” Viktor squeaked out, his body straight like a rod.

Yuuri quickly buttoned up the shirt for him with deft fingers trying to ignore Phichit’s muffled laughs. Viktor was looking at the ceiling, embarrassment clear in his whole demeanor.

“Here. Done,” he said, giving Viktor a few pats on his chest ( _oh my gosh, what was wrong with him?!)_

“Thank you, Yuuri...I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“You wanted to talk?” Yuuri changed the subject.

“I—yes, I did,” Viktor said but then fell silent. Yuuri chanced a glance at his friend who was staring at them like they were the most interesting movie or something.

“How about I walk you back to your car? And we can talk?”

Viktor nodded meekly.

“Before you go,” Phichit piped up from his spot, “Viktor—that long tube over there is for you. For all your help with our stuff.”

“Phichit, you didn’t have to…” the baker said, finally looking back at him.

“Early birthday gift.” Phichit grinned as Viktor picked up the package and tucked it under his arm. While the two of them were talking, Yuuri put on his coat and wrapped a scarf around his neck.

“Come on, let’s go,” Yuuri opened the door letting the Russian go first. Viktor gave Phichit a weak wave before disappearing down the stairs. Before leaving their apartment, Yuuri mimed a dagger being dragged across his throat and pointedly jabbed his finger at Phichit a few times, slamming the door shut behind him for emphasis.

They walked in silence for a while, Yuuri putting on his beanie over his head.

“You’re really bundled up,” Viktor broke the silence, grinning shyly. He himself was only wearing his usual Burberry trench coat. Yuuri felt self-conscious in his well-loved wool coat from Uniqlo.

“It’s cold,” he muttered in response. “Why aren’t you cold?”

“I’m Russian,” Viktor said with a shrug as if that really explained anything.

“Oh...Phichit mentioned that your birthday is coming up, is it?” Yuuri suddenly recalled.

“Yes. It’s on the twenty fifth.”

“Christmas Day?”

Viktor nodded.

“We’ll have to do something together then. After I come back from Spain.”

“What? No! You don’t have to—“

“Well, I want to! You guys gave me a birthday cake, remember? The least I could do is return the favor. Phichit is great at organizing parties.”

“I’m not…much of a partying person, to be honest.” Viktor admitted reluctantly. Yuuri looked at him in surprise.

“Really?” At Viktor’s hesitant nod, Yuuri smiled up at him with understanding. “Me either…We have to attend these sponsorship dinners or banquets pretty regularly and I really hate them. All the mingling, and smiling, and small talk is so tiring. But Celestino, my coach, he always makes me stay for at least two hours. At least this year, Phichit’s going to be there with me so it shouldn’t be bad...”

Viktor hummed in response.

“I used to attend pastry making competitions. Similarly, we would have banquets afterwards and you were supposed to talk to the judges and other contestants. Really stuffy events—especially the ones in France. Asides from that, you need to network extensively in this industry, so I always talk with suppliers and vendors and other chefs. Yuri hates it even more than I do.”

“You look like you would fit right in at one of those official dinners, though. Nursing a glass of champagne and talking to everybody or something,” Yuuri said, only half-jokingly.

Viktor ran a hand through his hair, flashing a quick smile. “You’re not exactly wrong. It’s easy enough to pretend for a few hours that you’re professional but it gets tiring after a while.” Yuuri felt the same way about the skating events.

Viktor suddenly came to a stop in front of Yuuri, meeting his gaze straight on for the first time this evening.

“But the truth is…I’m actually not that well put together. Or professional.”

“Eh?” Yuuri exclaimed confused.

“I might…act charming but I’m really not. Basically, I’m a mess most of the time. Yura says that I often step out of bounds without realizing it. You might have noticed after my word vomit the other day, and I really wanted to apologize to you in person in case it made you uncomfortable or—”

Yuuri couldn’t help it.  He burst out laughing and couldn’t stop for a while, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. He was still wheezing when Viktor fidgeted in front of him.

“Yuuuuri! I’m trying to have a serious conversation here.”

Yuuri wiped at his eyes, still grinning. “Is this why you looked so worried this whole entire evening? Viktor, I figured you were a total dork after the first fifty pictures of Makkachin that you sent me.”

“I thought you liked them?” Viktor asked in a panicky voice.

“Of course I loved them. But fifty, really? I have a whole folder of them now. I’m pretty sure I’m up to two hundred.”

“Too much?” Viktor asked with a sheepish grin.

“Just a little…“ Yuuri admitted. “But really…Your messages kept me going these past few weeks. And not just that. Your continuous kindness, and the way you listened to me in the park a few weeks ago…it really helped me with my skating. I feel like I truly have a chance at the podium now. Because of _you.”_ Yuuri didn’t plan on saying any of that but the words just tumbled out of his mouth. "So forget professionalism, or stepping out of bounds. I...if it's about the message from the other day, you don't need to apologize to me."

Viktor stared at him in bafflement before his expression changed into something more serious.

“Yuuri, what would you like me to be to you?” Viktor asked.

 _What?_ Yuuri reeled at the non sequitur.

“What?” he asked, mentally wincing at the rudeness of his question.

“I can be anything you want,” Viktor continued, leaning into his space with a slightly manic glint in his eyes. “A father figure? Brother? Friend? Confidant? I’m really good at listening.”

“Viktor, where is this coming from?”

"I just really want to be of more help to you."

"You really don't have to-" Yuuri tried to interrupt him

“A lover?” Viktor exclaimed loudly. Yuuri vehemently shook his head, blushing to the roots of his hair now.

“A boyfriend?” Viktor added so quietly that Yuuri nearly missed it.

Yuuri wasn’t sure what to say, confusion warring with embarrassment, quickly overshadowed by elation. Had Viktor just basically asked if Yuuri wanted him to be his boyfriend? Was this an actual confession? A smile slowly broke out on his face, still half hidden by the scarf around his neck. Warmth spread through his whole body, from the top of his head to his toes, making them curl in his shoes. Viktor thought that he could help Yuuri by offering to be his boyfriend. This silly man.

Viktor in turn seemed to deflate with each second that passed. He hesitantly took a few steps back, the movement startling Yuuri out of his own thoughts. He suddenly realized that Viktor could have misinterpreted his silence as a rejection.

“No!” he shouted out startling Viktor. Yuuri flailed his hands around, shaking his head, trying to say something but words failing him for the moment. Before Viktor could take another step back, Yuuri unfurled his scarf and threw it over the other man’s neck, dragging him forward with one move until they stood chest to chest, Viktor’s coat brushing against Yuuri’s.

The cardboard tube dropped from under Viktor’s arm, rolling away into the darkness.

Viktor’s eyes darted between Yuuri’s face and the scarf that held him in place, his eyes wide with shock. Yuuri couldn’t tear his gaze away from Viktor. He traced his eyes from his lips that were slightly parted, puffs of breath materializing in the cold air, up the slope of his nose to his eyes. There was something fragile, something vulnerable in them, and he wondered if Viktor could see the same thing reflected in his own eyes. He slowly and gently wrapped his scarf around Viktor’s neck, admiring how it covered up the flush that went down the expanse of it, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.

“I—I don’t want you or  _need you_ to be anything other than yourself,” he said firmly.

The Russian let out a surprised gasp. He looked at Yuuri as if he had just told him the secrets of the Universe or something equally impressive. Yuuri looked away, blushing.

Okay, so maybe he did just say something pretty smooth, like one of those one-liners that would fit more in a Korean drama that Phichit made him watch. He mentally patted himself on the back, glad that _Awkward Yuuri_ did not make an appearance tonight. For the most part.

“I—I think I can do that,” Viktor stammered out quietly.

“Right now I need to focus of the GPF…” Yuuri said, still fiddling with the scarf around Viktor’s neck, liking how the blue of it slightly matched Viktor’s eyes.

“I understand.”

“But let’s talk more after the final, okay?”

“Okay.” Yuuri could hear the smile and relief in Viktor’s voice. “Let’s do that.”

Yuuri looked back, eyes meeting Viktor’s, and _yep,_ there it was. The soft smile on Viktor’s face that could easily steal his breath away.

Viktor made him feel unlike himself sometimes, saying things that ‘just Yuuri’ would never really say or do or even think of. He wasn’t himself…but in a good way. He was glad for it, especially if it was going to make Viktor smile like he was doing right now more often.

Viktor slowly raised both of his hands, bringing them up to cover Yuuri’s. They lingered in that position for a few precious moments before Yuuri reluctantly stepped back and let go of the scarf.

Viktor smothered his face into the fabric. Yuuri's eyebrows went up in bewilderment.

“ _Ahhhh_ —and I thought five years was a long time,” his voice was muffled behind the material but Yuuri could still hear him. He just didn’t understand the meaning behind those words. “I can wait two more weeks,” Viktor seemed to say more to himself, moving to pick up the mysterious tube that rolled a few feet away from them.

The rest of their walk to the parking lot was spent in a comfortable silence. They didn’t hold hands, but they walked close enough that occasionally the back of their palms would brush against each other (c _ompletely deliberate on Yuuri’s part_ ).

Viktor got into his car, pulling down the window to say something.

“Good luck in Barcelona. I’ll cheer you on. And Phichit.  But mostly you. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Yuuri laughed. “I wish you could come too,” he said slightly wistfully.

Viktor stared at him with a strange look. Yuuri decided there and then that he would start chronicling all of Viktor’s expressions. Lofty goal but he was nothing but determined. _Exhibit A – Slightly confused but still adorable._

In lieu of answering, Viktor turned on the engine, music coming through the speakers.

“Hey,” Yuuri exclaimed a grin breaking out on his face. Viktor looked back at him. “I know this song. You have to tell me how you became an Arashi fan.”

Viktor sent him a fond smile.   _Exhibit B – Fond smile with a slight shy quality to it._ Yuuri was getting the hang of it. He raised his hand in a wave. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“After GPF?” Viktor asked him.

“After GPF.”

He watched as Viktor drove off, nearly taking out a street lamp, grateful that he wasn’t in that car. He might like the man but he was never going to get into the same car with him ever again.

Yuuri turned on his heel and started walking towards his apartment building.

That…was definitely a Moment. Yuuri would even throw in a capital _M_.

He couldn’t wait for the GPF to be over.

* * *

 

> phichit: i present to you, Viktor “Hot Mess” Nikiforov                 
> 
> [photo of Yuuri buttoning up the shirt for Viktor]
> 
> yuuri: you are a terrible human being
> 
> phichit: i have more
> 
> Yuuri: send them over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next is the GRAND PRIX FINAL. It’s the home stretch, guys. Thank you for sticking around for it.
> 
> What I love about Yuri! On Ice is that there is so many ways of re-interpreting the story. The canon gives you a solid base from which you can do whatever you want. Everybody knows how it goes, but there are so many different ways of telling it. And the progression fits into every freaking AU scenario. I love this fandom.
> 
> Of course I had to include Viktor and Yuuri’s beach conversation, but in this one Viktor is doing most of the flailing. Consider this the Talk part I. There is going to be a part II after the GPF. Until next time!
> 
> ed. 10/4/17 fixed typos, spelling mistakes, etc.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barcelona, here we come! In which not much happens and there is a lot of sightseeing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few days ago was YoI’s first year anniversary. I’m so grateful for the creators of this wonderful series and to everybody in the fandom, especially the incredible fanfiction writers who brought me here. 
> 
> But this chapter is dedicated to all of you who found time to read this story. Thank you! The chapter is a little bit slower and if you want some mood music, definitely go listen to the episode 10 OST. My favorite is the song that plays when Viktor and Yurio have their conversation near the sea (Pasacaille in Barcelona – it can still be found on YouTube).
> 
> I'm going to come back later to add links to pictures of the places that Yuuri and Phichit visit in this chapter. For now, here is a pretty cool article from [Crunchyroll](http://www.crunchyroll.com/anime-feature/2016/12/10/feature-anime-vs-real-life-yuri-on-ice-part-2), part of their Anime vs. Real Life series that features Yuri on Ice. Enjoy!

_Omamori, phone, passport, ticket, costumes, EX props, Minako-sensei’s stuff, skates, phone charger, wallet, money._ Yuuri ran through a mental list of things in his suitcase and backpack while waiting for Phichit to come back from dropping off the hamsters at Mr. and Mrs. Smith’s. He tapped his foot on the floor, fidgeting with the zipper of his sports jacket that he was wearing under the wool coat. He twitched when his phone vibrated with an incoming message.

> Coach Celestino: Downstairs.
> 
> Yuuri: On our way.

He opened the front door, hollering. “Phichit, we have to go! _”_ He grabbed his backpack, wheeling the suitcase closer to the entrance without waiting for his friend’s response.

There was a thundering sound of one hundred elephants stomping down the stairs, Phichit barreling into the apartment like a mad man soon after.

“Passport and ticket,?” Yuuri asked, adjusting the straps of his bag.

Phichit checked the small outer pocket of his backpack. “Got them.”

“Phone? Phone charger?” his friend leveled an ‘ _are you serious?’_ look at him. Yuuri raised his hand in defense.

“Costumes, skates?”

Phichit hesitated, quickly laying down his suitcase and opening it up. Yuuri’s phone vibrated in his pocket with an incoming call from Celestino. He ignored it.

“Got them. And the make-up, clothes, selfie stick and other stuff,” Phichit riffled through his things, hastily closing the suitcase. He patted his jeans and coat. “Got my wallet as well. Oh—and my camera!”

“Let’s go before Celestino has an aneurysm.”

Their coach watched unimpressed, radiating pure disappointment as they loaded their things into the trunk of the Uber car.  Yuuri had just settled inside behind the driver’s seat when there was a shout from the direction of _Stammi._

“Wait!” Viktor quickly approached them, a paper bag in one hand and a coffee carrier with three drinks in the other.

“Viktor!” Yuuri called out, feeling himself smile.

“Hi Yuuri! Hey Phichit—hello,” he darted his eyes between Yuuri and Phichit and nodded at the front seat where Celestino was no doubt glaring at him.

“For you,” Viktor pushed the bag at Phichit, who took it with a grateful grin. Yuuri was still trying to catch a better look at Viktor, this being the last chance he would see the baker for the next week or so, but Phichit did a good job obscuring his view. He tugged at his friend’s jacket. The Thai skater finally got in, passing him the pastries, Viktor closing the car door for them. Yuuri put the bag to the side, leaning over his friend to open the window.

Celestino coughed pointedly from the front but the skaters ignored him.

“Hello,” Yuuri said, trying to act natural.

Viktor passed him the drinks through the window, coffee smell immediately wafting through the interior of the car.

“Hello,” he winked at him. _Exhibit C – sexy wink #1 (right eye)._

They grinned goofily at each other. _Special Exhibit A – two dorks in lo—_

Another pointed cough came from his coach, interrupting his thoughts.

“Right!” Viktor straightened up. “I’ll see you soon!”

“Ah, wait—Viktor! Yura sent me a message yesterday. It just said _katsudon,_ followed by a string of really angry emojis. I’m not sure what happened. Is it something I did?”

Viktor chuckled weakly. “That would be my fault. Or Phichit’s, I guess.”

“Me? What did _I_ do now?” Phichit asked with an innocent look.

“That’s it!” Celestino turned towards the driver. “Go—please just go.”

“Have a safe flight, everyone,” Viktor waved, directing a blinding smile at Yuuri.

The car drove away, Yuuri twisting his body to stare through the rear window at Viktor, not at all surprised that the other man was still standing there waving, even though he couldn’t have been sure that they were watching. Phichit grabbed the carrier from him before he could spill the drinks.

“My friend. You’ve got it _so_ bad.” Yuuri was past denying it.

Phichit passed him a cup with a cute doodle of a poodle on it, holding onto his own that had a drawing of a hamster wearing a crown. Adjusting the cardboard sleeve on the last one, Yuuri saw that “Coach Celestino” was penned out in neat handwriting.

“Ciao Ciao, this one’s for you,” Phichit said, passing it to the front. Their coach took it with some grumbling. He stared at the cup suspiciously, before carefully taking a first sip. Yuuri stifled a laugh at his coach, whose eyes widened comically in wonder. The tension seemed to bleed out of his body, after which he relaxed into his seat, continuously sipping at the drink.

Phichit turned to him, whispering. “Magic?”

“Drugs, remember?” he whispered back.

Their check-in and subsequent security screening went off without a hitch. In fact, one of the TSA agents whose name was John, pulled them aside to ask for a selfie and an autograph. John giddily mentioned that his daughter was a figure skater still in Novices but was a huge fan of Yuuri. The words were spilling out of his mouth before he consciously realized it, Yuuri asking if he would like another autograph for his daughter as well. The man’s smile was so bright it could probably illuminate the whole airport for a week. The agent hurried away, looking for an additional piece of paper. The incredulous looks Phichit and Celestino sent in his direction had him shrinking away in embarrassment.

John reappeared seconds later with a notepad in which Yuuri wrote out “To Katie from Yuuri Katsuki. Hope to see you on the ice in the future!” Phichit, still looking at him with shock, but also with slightly misty eyes, added his own personal message inside the notepad.

And then John hailed down an airport buggy for them. Yuuri tried to politely decline but Phichit and Celestino were already piling into the back of the vehicle, looking like Christmas had come early for them, leaving him no room but to reluctantly follow. John wished them good luck as they sped away at the incredible speed of 10 miles per hour. Yuuri tried to hide behind his backpack as they garnered some curious glances and snickers, some people even pulling out their phones to take pictures. Phichit, not to be outdone, was snapchatting the whole ride, and then nearly fell off the car when trying to take a selfie. Yuuri face palmed.

* * *

 

> _phichit+chu posted a photo_
> 
> [Phichit and Celestino grinning excitedly from their seats in the airport buggy]
> 
> Got myself a ride because of @katsuki-yuu’s celebrity status. With @cialdini.coachofficial #katsukiyuuri #detroitairportisthebest #Barcelonaherewecome #gpfinal14
> 
> Liked by **v-nikiforov, yuri-plisetsky** and **1,544 others**
> 
> **cialdini.coachofficial** even better than a ride on a zamboni
> 
> _View all 234 comments_

* * *

Yuuri had his face pressed to the window the whole ride from the airport to their hotel in Barcelona, looking in awe as they drove through the city.

“Ciao Ciao! You have to let us go sightseeing, you have to!” Phichit kept repeating from his side of the car.

“Practice first, pleasure later. If you’re good, I’ll give you a whole day off tomorrow,” Celestino responded without looking up from his phone. Yuuri and Phichit exchanged hopeful glances.

* * *

  **v-nikiforov**

Today, 1:05 PM

just arrived at the venue!

<3 I saw Phichit’s post

wow he acts fast

gtg, coach Celestino is back

Good luck!

* * *

An hour into their training, JJ walked in with his parents. The Canadian seemed more subdued than usual, which meant he was as loud as ever but with less genuine smiles. Yuuri was an expert at those. He looked over at Phichit but his friend was engrossed in talking with Ciao Ciao. With one more glance at JJ, he went back to practicing his choreographic sequence.

“Two more laps around the rink,” Celestino called out after a few hours later.

Phichit and Yuuri skated up to him with expectant looks. Celestino looked between them with a blank expression before sighing, eyes going to the ceiling.

“Fine.”

“Yes!” Phichit shouted, throwing himself at their coach.

” _Grazie_ , coach!” Yuuri said with no less enthusiasm.

“Just…Please, do at least one hour off-ice training tomorrow morning before you leave.”

“Okay,” they readily agreed. It was a small price to pay for a free day.

On their way out, they crossed paths with the Russian team, Celestino nodding at Coach Plisetsky, who nodded back. Mila looked at them grinning, tugging at Georgi’s sleeve and whispering something to him. The older skater rolled his eyes but also acknowledged them with a nod, which Yuuri returned. _There was a lot of nodding._

Back in the hotel room while waiting for Phichit to be done with his shower Yuuri checked his phone. He smiled at a rare message from Axel, Lutz and Loop.

**Sukeota3sisters**

Today, 2:30 PM

_Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri!!!!_

_Look!_

[Photo of the triplets in cheering _gakuran._  
Behind them is a vaguely familair looking short teenager with blond hair with red highlights, holding a banner]

_We’re ready for the GPF!_

* * *

_thanks girls!_

_i will do my best to make Japan proud_

_also who is that behind you? he looks familiar_

_you’re terrible with faces as usual aren’t you Yuuri?_

_Btw it’s Nishigori. The girls are asleep now. Had to confiscate their phones._

_Hi Takeshi!_

_And to answer your question, that’s Minami Kenjiro._

_Last year’s silver medalist at the Nationals._

_Rings a bell?_

_oh_

_what’s he doing in Hasetsu_

_he wanted to cheer you on from your home town_

_and meet your parents_

_and soak in the same onsen as you_

_and sleep in your bed or something_

_what?_

_Don’t ask._

_Yuuri-kun! It’s Yuuko!_

_Yuu-chan!_

_Do your best, okay? We’re going to cheer for you so loudly  
that you will hear us all the way in Barcelona._

_Thanks so much guys._

_it means a lot_

_I’ll do my best!_

_must be late in Japan. You two should go to sleep._

_Not much sleeping going to happen tonight_

_Takeshi-kun!_

_….i did not need to know that_

_Head out of gutter, both of you._

_Yuuri-kun, ganba!_

He smiled at the selfie that the two sent him, quickly saving it down on his phone in the folder dedicated to his family.

Minako-sensei sent him a photo of her packed suitcases. He didn’t understand why she needed two of them just for a short trip but he learned not to question her decisions.

“Hey, I’m done with the bathroom,” Phichit said after coming out of it while toweling his hair. “Let’s grab dinner and turn in early today. We have a long and exciting day tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll be quick,” Yuuri answered, disappearing into the steaming bathroom.

* * *

  **v-nikiforov**

Today, 6:05 PM

[photo of Makkachin lying on the bed over a pile of folded clothes,  
eyes turned up to the camera]

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Awwww

why does she look so sad?

:(((((((

It’s all for a good cause, I swear!

Gonna grab dinner with Phichit and my coach. Ttyl?

Ttyl!

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair in one of the hotel restaurants. He had to admit that the food was pretty good, the salmon he'd ordered especially fresh tasting, but he hoped he would finally be able to eat _katsudon_ after the final.

Yuuri glanced between his best friend and his coach, each absorbed in their own meal. He took a second to marvel at how far they have come, recalling the first team dinner they had, and how uncomfortable he felt sitting there while his coach tried to engage him in a conversation. His answers were stilted, each sentence carefully bounced around his mind, double and triple checking that it was correct, before reluctantly forming on his lips. Phichit in turn wouldn’t stop talking, barreling through what English he had known at that time, quoting _The King at the Skater_ at every turn possible, genuinely surprised when they didn’t know what he was talking about.

Suddenly Celestino chuckled, swirling his wine in the glass before taking a sip. Phichit sent him a questioning look.

“I was just thinking about when you two first came to Detroit,” their coach said with a fond smile. “Yuuri, you were so intense back then.” Yuuri raised an eyebrow at that.

Phichit grinned. “Remember that time you took us out to that sushi place, Ciao Ciao?” Both Yuuri and Celestino groaned.

“Sorry coach,” Yuuri said automatically at the same time as Celestino tried to swat Phichit over his head.

“When are you going to stop bringing it up. And Yuuri, I told you to stop apologizing for it. It wasn’t your fault.”

“If we’re going to do this, remember that time you got chewing gum in coach Celestino’s hair?” Yuuri teased. Celestino glared at the younger skater and Phichit had a decency to look ashamed.

“You’re lucky it was winter and there was plenty of snow to go around to get rid of that chewing gum,” Celestino growled at him. He was really sensitive about his hair.

“How about that time you thought it would be a good idea to drive to Skate America instead of flying?” Phichit and Yuuri burst out laughing at that. Yuuri thought of it as the trip where his perception of his coach changed, where the older man became Ciao Ciao, and not just his instructor.

“This was supposed to be a fond trip down the memory lane, not a roast-your-coach session, boys,” Celestino cut them off.

“You love us,” Phichit grinned at their coach.

“I ask myself why every day” their coach admitted ruffling their hair. He briefly kept his hand on top of their heads. “On Friday, skate in a way that is true to yourself. Show everybody the kind of skating you can say you like the best and everything will turn out okay.”

Phichit and Yuuri exchanged smiles. 

“Enough of that. Here, I have something for you two,” Celestino passed them a folded piece of paper. “Early Christmas present.”

“What’s this?” Yuuri said unfolding it.

“Tickets for _La Sagrada Familia_. Just make sure to give yourself enough room to get there on time for your assigned slot.”

“Ciao Ciao,” Phichit told him with an unusually serious expression. “Just so you know, we love you too.”

“Yes, yes,” Celestino dismissed Phichit declaration. “Now, Yuuri…Is Minako going to be coming to cheer for you again?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes at that. “Ask her yourself, coach. I know you have her info.”

“See if I ever give you any more gifts,” Ciao Ciao said, finishing the rest of his wine.

“You love us,” Phichit and Yuuri exclaimed simultaneously.

* * *

**v-nikiforov**

Today, 8:00PM

Hi Yuuri!

I’m sorry I won’t be online for a while.

Something came up.

‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚.

But here is another 50 more pictures of Makkachin to keep you going in the meantime.

<3

I hope everything is ok…

Message me as soon as you can, please.

* * *

They breezed through the morning gym session. Despite Celestino’s word from yesterday, they’d managed to fit in some on-ice practice before the other skaters showed up, Phichit wanting to practice his jumps in secret.

After going back to the hotel and changing, they jumped on the metro, making their way to see _Palau Güell_ —their first sightseeing stop. Phichit had found a self-guided walking tour map online and decided to use that as a starting point to their exploration of Barcelona.

“We just need to make sure we get to _Sagrada_ before 3 p.m.” Phichit said, double checking their tickets.

The day was sunny although slightly chilly. Yuuri rubbed at his neck, making a mental note to buy a new scarf if he had the chance, which inevitably led him to think about the reason why he didn’t have his scarf in the first place. Mainly Viktor. He looked at his phone. There were no new messages from the Russian. He had to squash the feeling of worry in his stomach.

“Yuuri! Can you take a picture for me?”

“Sure.” Phichit sent him a brilliant smile, throwing up a peace sign. Looking through the camera viewer, Yuuri felt himself smile back. He pressed the shutter, briefly glancing at the display before handing back the camera, Phichit already running off to take more photos.

It would do him no good to worry, Yuuri thought. He took out his phone and snapped a photo of the façade of the building, admiring the intricate metal work over the iron gates leading into the central hall. He sent it over to Viktor. As a thank you for the extra photos of Makkachin. Whatever the other man was doing, Yuuri hoped he would like seeing a little bit of Barcelona.

On their way to their next stop, they stumbled upon some kind of indoor market. Yuuri snapped a picture of the very pretty sign that looked like a coat of arms, all glasswork and ironwork hanging above the entrance into the building.

“Wow,” Phichit sighed in amazement. “This reminds me of Bangkok.”

Yuuri tugged his friend by the sleeve of his jacket. “Let’s check out the inside.”

The market was huge, filled with stalls upon stalls selling fresh fruits and vegetables, flowers, meats, and spices. There were also some tables sprinkled around selling specialty items and souvenirs. They spent a good chunk of their time admiring the shop that was selling colorful ceramics, including tiled-patterned figurines.

They both froze in front of the candy store, staring in wonder at all the colorful containers. Phichit had to forcefully pull him away just as he was reaching towards a basket to fill up with chocolate and other candies.

They continued to walk for a while, getting lured by the sweet smell of freshly baked pastries to a small bakery stall that reminded Yuuri of _Stammi._ He snapped another photo to send to Viktor.

“Are those hamster shaped buns?” Phichit asked in wonder.

“Okay, this is getting dangerous. Let’s leave,” he pulled his friend away.

They took their time making their way to _Casa Batlló_ , first back tracking a little bit to stroll through the narrow streets of the Old Quarter. Phichit spent the whole time glued to his camera, looking at everything in child-like wonder.

His friend loved taking pictures on his phone, being the self-declared selfie king that he was, but there were moments when he would grab his DSLR camera and just loose himself in capturing the scenery around him. Phichit rarely shared those photos on social media, which could probably be considered out of character of him. At the core, Phichit was an _oversharer_. Oversharer of information, opinions, feelings, and emotions. That’s why his skating was so captivating and expressive. But these moments, the ones captured through the viewfinder were only for him.

Phichit looked over at him questioningly, and Yuuri realized he was caught staring. He simply shook his head. His friend turned around and kept walking. For all his teasing and “extraness” he knew when to push and went to step back.

Their walk to _Casa Batlló_ took more time than they expected, especially once they hit _Passeig de Gràcia_ with all its fancy shops. The thing about a city like Barcelona, where the historical sights blended right in with the rest of the scenery, it was quite possible to just walk past a famous place without realizing. Not for _Casa Batlló_. The enormous crowd lining up outside was one thing, but even before that, in the early afternoon sun, the colorful and whimsical façade, the stained-glass windows, and the irregular shapes of the building were impossible to miss.

Yuuri and Phichit collapsed on the bench in front of the building, simply taking in the sight. Yuuri sent another photo to Viktor, not expecting any answer, but his phone suddenly dinged with an incoming message. He fumbled, nearly dropping his phone.

Viktor had messaged him with a sideways picture of…a pork cutlet bowl? Before Yuuri could respond the other man followed up with a string of exclamation marks and a typo ridden “Sorry, wrong person, gotta go” note.

“What’s up?” Phichit asked him.

“I’m not sure to be honest…Viktor just sent me a photo of _katsudon?_ ”

Phichit made a scandalized face. “Oh, that’s dirty.”

“What? I don’t understand—what do you mean?” his friend got up with a shit-eating-grin, ignoring him. “Phichit?!”

“Just kidding!” his friend shouted back at him. Yuuri wasn’t sure if he should believe him or not.

“Come on, we really need to take a picture together in front of this place!”

* * *

“But, really, Gaudi was such an amazing person,” Phichit gushed over lunch later. They found a cozy looking tapas bar after walking around the neighborhood for a while. One part of the restaurant was a full bar with the other one taken up by a tapas station, a number of tables at the back of the place. It was pretty crowded but they only had to wait for ten minutes to be seated. The hostess had taken one look at them then did a double take at seeing Phichit, before taking their names and talking to one of the passing by waiters in rapid Spanish.

Yuuri hummed in acknowledgement as his face was currently stuffed full of _patatas bravas_ – fried potatoes in a spicy tomato sauce, sending a mental apology to Celestino for breaking his diet yet again.

“If you think about it,” Phichit continued, spooning some of the yellow-colored rice of the _paella_ onto his own small plate. “—it’s like this whole city is steeped in Antoni Gaudi. His influence is everywhere!”

Everything they ordered was recommended to them by an excited waiter, who even gave them a few freebies. Celestino would be so mad if he knew. But then, what Celestino didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“Can you imagine leaving so much impact behind you?” Phichit asked.

Yuuri looked up at that, his friend’s voice sounding a little bit off to his ears. Phichit was staring at his plate with an intense gaze. Yuuri didn’t know what to say to that.

“You should eat it before it cools down,” he finally waved at the dish in front of Phichit. “And try the grilled shrimp, it’s really good.”

They ate the rest of the meal in silence, Phichit occasionally looking at his phone or going through the photos on his camera with an assessing look, but Yuuri thought he could detect a hint of disappointment in his friend. At what, he wasn’t sure.

They paid for the food and were ready to leave when the hostess from before ran up to them with a grin.

“Can I take a photo with you?” Phichit smiled, taking the phone from her, ushering her towards Yuuri when she shook her head.

“No, no, no,” she took back her phone from the Thai skater and handed it to Yuuri instead. The Japanese snorted at his friend’s deer in a headlight look. She pointed between herself and him and the Thai nodded mechanically.

“Ready?” at both of their nods, Yuuri counted down. “Three, two, one—“

“Is this okay?” he asked the waitress, who eagerly took back her phone to look through the pictures. She nodded at him before turning back to Phichit and saying something that Yuuri didn’t catch. Phichit’s eyes widened comically, letting out a burst of words that Yuuri recognized as Thai. The girl nodded and laughed shyly saying something more before trailing off and then letting out a groan.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” she finally asked in English.

“No, that was really good,” Phichit reashured her. He said a few more things that had her burst out laughing.

“Mind if we all take a selfie?” This time Yuuri was pulled into a photo and he smiled dutifully into the camera. They stayed for a moment longer, Phichit listening intently at what the other girl was saying in measured words, occasionally saying something back. She finally reached out her hand to shake Phichit’s, and honest to goodness, jumped up from happiness startling a laugh out of both Phichit and Yuuri. Afterwards, she walked them out, giving them an excited wave.

“ _Chok di kha, Phichit!_ Bye Yuuri.”

“ _Khorb Khun Krup, Mariana!”_

They continued their walking tour to _Casa Milà_ , not surprisingly, another of Gaudi’s architectural marvels, Phichit in decidedly better mood than before. Yuuri decided not to point it out, sure that Phichit would talk to him when he felt he was ready. He did however ask about the waitress.

“Oh! She told me she was half-Thai, half-Catalonian but she’s been living in Barcelona since she was born. Her mum tried to teach her Thai before, but she didn’t care enough to learn it. Not until recently, at least. Her boyfriend is from Thailand and apparently…he is my fan?” Phichit scratched at his neck with a sheepish grin. “They’ve been following this year’s Grand Prix series and she recognized me.”

“Who is the celebrity now?” Yuuri nudged his friend with an elbow. Phichit laughed.

A twenty minute walk later with a short stop in a local bookstore to pick out a bunch of postcards _(for Leo and Guang Hong, Phichit explained),_ they finally made it to _Sagrada Famillia,_ the most famous landmark of Barcelona. Yuuri and Phichit took the customary selfie before the cathedral, Phichit quickly switching to his own camera.

“What time is it?” Phichit asked him.

“2:30 p.m. We have about thirty minutes before we have to go and line up.”

“Do you mind if I walk around a little bit on my own?”

“Sure. Let’s meet up at 2:55ish? Near that entrance over there?” Phichit nodded silently, sending him a wave before disappearing into the crowd.

Yuuri followed in the same direction but at a more sedated pace, occasionally stopping to take a few pictures of his own and sending them over to Viktor. The photos couldn’t do the basilica any justice. He was curious at some of the cranes and constructions going on around the church. A couple asked him if he wouldn’t mind taking a picture for them. He gladly did. They offered to do the same for him. The resulting photo he sent to his family Line group.

He looked around, trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of his friend, but Phichit was nowhere in sight. A group of warmly dressed elderly people crossed his path, talking excitedly to each other. It took him a moment, longer than it should really, before it registered in his mind that they were actually speaking in Japanese. It took another second before he understood what they were actually saying.

He stared after them, suddenly feeling out of balance. Thrown off his axis, like the weightless feeling after a jump, right before you painfully crash to the ice. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what shook him up so much. Maybe the unexpectedness of hearing his native language while being surrounded by Spanish heritage. Maybe the fact that he didn’t recognize it right away. 

Homesickness was a strange thing.

During the first few months in Detroit, he would sometimes lie curled up under his blanket, staring at the wall of his dorm room. Missing home, missing his rickety old bed, missing the hot springs, missing his ice rink where he could practice all he wanted. Alone. He spent hours thinking about his parents' cooking, Mari’s teasing, the sound of his footsteps on the tatami mats.

Everything around him would seem slightly wrong, from the way the sun rose to the rice from the school cafeteria. Even the pigeons looked different.

He learned to ignore that feeling, throwing himself into training with fervor of a drowned man trying to keep afloat. Skating was all he had after all. It got to the point that Celestino would have to intervene, telling him to rest properly, which felt more like a punishment than a show of genuine worry.

He talked to his family regularly not because of his own efforts, feeling that since he insisted so much on being sent abroad, he didn’t have the right to bother them. But without fail, they would call him, whether it was Mari or his mom or dad or even Minako-sensei. Yuu-chan and Takeshi created a group chat for the three of them, and would send him the latest gossip from around the town.

It slowly got easier, especially after Phichit came to Detroit less than a year later, barreling his way into the hearts of everybody in the skating club, including Yuuri’s. He dulled the pain of missing Hasetsu, replacing it with the fun they started having while living in the U.S.

Detroit on its own could never be home, but it became one because of his friend.

Home was Yu-topia, but home was also an apartment with three hamsters. Home was an ice rink in the depressing building of the Detroit Skating Club with Celestino shouting instructions and ruffling his hair after a productive practice session. Home was when Phichit declared himself to be his best friend.

Phichit who dragged him out sightseeing ( _What do you mean you haven’t been to the Detroit Zoo? Tell me you at least saw the Ambassador Bridge? You know, the architectural marvel that connects U.S. and Canada? Phichit, that bridge is super ugly. Yes, like the rest of Detroit. It doesn’t mean it’s not worth looking at)_. Phichit who made it his mission to try out all the Thai restaurants around the city in order to find the most authentic pad thai and tried to convince him to do the same with sushi places ( _But Phichit, I don’t even like sushi. Yuuri, what blasphemy is this?!)._

Detroit was home because of Phichit and being roped into cooking dinners five out of seven times ( _Yuuri, but your food is so much better than mine_ ).

But there were times when things would remind him of his real home, of Hasetsu, and he would be hit by a sense of unexplainable loss and longing for something he didn’t think he could ever get back, especially if he wanted to continue with his dream of being a figure skater. Those moments came during morning jogs before the sunrise, or at the dance studio when he would be practicing moves and expecting to see Minako-sensei after a spin. They came with the sound of seagulls and on the quiet bus rides to the skating ring.

Before the conscious thought registered in his mind, he already had his phone out, calling the _onsen_. He was ready to hang up after reaching the fifth ring, feeling decidedly ridiculous, because he was supposed to be _better_ _than this_ , when somebody picked up the phone.

“ _Hello? Yu-topia Katsuki.”_ He felt all the tension escape his body.

“Mom?”

There was silence on the other end of the line before his mother answered, confusion quickly replaced by excitement in her voice, “ _Yuuri? Is that you?”_

“Yes…How are you? Did I wake you up?”

“ _No, no, I was still awake doing some bookkeeping. Oh, it’s so rare for you to call the landline nowadays_.”

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” he scuffled the ground with his shoe, feeling a bit silly.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” his mother interrupted him with her scolding voice. It was no less gentle and warm. It just had a hint of disappointment in it. “ _You can call home anytime you want, you understand me?_ ”

“Yes, ma'am.” Yuuri said, fighting back a smile and that annoying prickling behind his eyes.

“ _Now, where are you? What are you doing?_ ”

“I’m actually in front of _Sagrada Familia._ ”

“ _Oh! That big famous church? I think Minako-sempai showed me the pictures of it before._ ”

“You’re right. She showed it to both of us, didn’t she?”

“ _Hiroko!"_  He heard his father's excited voice on the other end of the line. " _Yuuri_ _sent us a photo in the group chat._ ”

“ _Yes, dear. I’m talking to him right now._ ”

“ _Yuuri!_ ” his father said cheerfully into the receiver, presumably taking the phone from his mom. He felt himself smile.

“Dad?”

“ _That was a nice photograph you sent us. You should do it more often! I feel like Phichit-kun shares more with us than you do._ ”

“What do you mean--since when does Phichit send you picture?”

He could hear his mother saying, “ _Dear, I don’t think we were supposed to tell him that_.”

“ _Oops,”_ his father laughed boisterously. “ _Cat’s out of the bag now. Phichit-kun has been sharing photos of you with Mari. How else would we know that you are having fun?”_

“Dad,” Yuuri said slightly offended, “we talk every week.”

“ _Give me back the phone, dear,_ ” there was some shuffling sound from the other side. “ _Yuuri, don’t be mad, please._ ” Like he could ever be mad at his mother.

“ _It’s just—you always tell us that everything is fine, and that you eat properly, and that skating is good and that you will make Japan proud. But I want to hear how you’re feeling, if you’re having fun, or if you’re sad. And Phichit’s really good with that. Don’t take it out on him either. He was just doing what we asked him to._ ” His mother was a saint and he could never think of going against her wishes.

“Yes mother,” Yuuri said resigned, thinking back to the olive jar he threw out back in Detroit. He hoped Phichit made sure to share only the…less crazy stuff that they got into on a regular basis.

“ _Now,_ ” his mom’s voice perked up and she seemed to be holding back laughter. He steeled himself to what was to come, but nothing could have really prepared him for what she said next, “ _when are you going to introduce us to Vic-chan?_ ”

“I’m sorry, who?”

“ _Your Vic-chan! Viktor. The baker?_ ”

 _What?_ His mind supplied helpfully.

“What?!” he screamed into his phone, startling the people around him. That’s when Phichit popped up in front of him with a grin, “Ready to go in?”

“I am going to force feed you so many olives during dinner tonight, Phichit Chulanont,” he went to grab his friend but Phichit dodged it without really understanding what was going on.

“Oh,” his friend chuckled nervously, dodging one more strangulation attempt by Yuuri. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

From the phone he could hear his mum talking and could imagine her stomping her foot down, “Y _ou promised to be nice._ ”

“Mom, I have to go. We have a timed ticket to go inside the church and can’t miss it.” He finally managed to snag his friend by the back of his coat and hold him in place.

“ _Yuuri,_ ” she said in a warning voice.

“Yes, mom. I promise I won’t hurt him.” He added ominously into Phichit’s ear, “Much.”

“D _o your best, okay? We have a whole cheering squad for you here in Hasetsu._ ”

“ _Yuuri, ganba!_ ” his dad shouted.

“Thanks, good night mom, good night dad.” He put away his phone.

“Yuuri, you can’t murder me in front of all these people,” Phichit tried to free himself from his hold without any success.

“How about we go inside and I find a nice empty alcove to do that, huh?”

“What did I do now?”

“The fact that you don’t know makes me even madder.”

Phichit turned the GazeTM at him but only got hit over the head for his efforts.

“I feel so attacked right now.”

Yuuri suddenly let go, overcome with laughter, homesickness forgotten after the conversation with his parents and at the sight of Phichit’s exaggerated pout. Phichit, because he was Phichit, first took a picture and then joined in, throwing an arm around Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s go in.”

The first thing Yuuri thought of when they walked inside was that the basilica was enormous. He let the voice of the audio guide wash over him as he strolled around, eyes unable to stay in one spot. The architecture made him think of shells, sandcastles, and the sea, maybe because of the irregular, wavy shapes and spirals of the walls and pillars and ceiling. What really stole the show for him though were the stained glass windows on both sides of the church.

He sat down in one of the pews, leaning his head back to look at the soaring ceiling. He took a picture of it, sending the photo to both Viktor and his parents.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Phichit whispered, sitting down next to him. Yuuri nodded.

Through the headphones, a female voice narrated the history of the cathedral, how Gaudi had spent the last years of his life on the project and never got to see the end result. How even now it was only about 70% finished, which explained all the cranes outside the church.

They spent more than an hour inside, just walking around. Yuuri thought it wasn’t bad, being able to sightsee before the competition. It wasn’t how he usually spent his time. His usual pre-competition routine involved holing himself up in his hotel room, listening to his songs on loop, and working himself up into a frenzy ( _aka. criticizing his own skating while doing mental run-throughs)_. The world had a lot more to offer, he realized.

They jumped onto the metro for one last time, making their way to their final sightseeing spot for the day, _Park_ _Güell_ , Phichit wanting to catch the sunset from the terrace.

When they came out of the subway, a notification was waiting for him on his phone. He chuckled at the photo Minako-sensei tagged him in. She was in the middle of doing an arabesque while holding a white banner with hot pink writing that said “Yuri!!! Yuri Katsuki” with a “ _ganba_ ” added in a black marker at the bottom. The caption underneath the photo said “de Gaulle airport is as depressing as ever. Barcelona here we come! @katsuki-yuu” There was something off about that picture but he couldn’t place his finger on it. He quickly got distracted, Phichit ushering him to a building where they managed to snag some last minute tickets to go inside the park.

After racing each other up the colorful tiled steps, and a million photos and selfies later, they stood on the terrace overlooking the city. Phichit had his camera out, a serene look on his face while taking pictures of the city bathed in the sunlight of the setting sun.

Yuuri found himself taking a photo of his friend, wanting to capture this moment.

_Yes, this was home._

He sent it off to Viktor with a smile.

Phichit turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“Messaging Viktor again?“ he asked him

“How did you know?”  Yuuri put away his phone.

“Easy to tell. You always have a smile on your face….” Phichit fiddled with his camera for a little bit. “So what is going between the two of you?”

Yuuri crossed his arms on the terrace rail, admiring the view in front of him. “I’m not sure…but we decided to talk after the GPF.“

Phichit looked at him through the camera lens. “But you already have an idea about what you want, don’t you?“

Yuuri nodded, smiling. “It’s the first time I’m feeling this way,” he admitted.

Phichit sidled next to him, knocking him lightly with his shoulder. “See, I told you. Dating before year end. Adopting labradoodles by next winter. Or maybe in this case, probably poodles.”

Yuuri knocked him back. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Besides…Makkachin is already the best dog I could ever ask for.“

Phichit put his face in the palm of his hand, “I can’t—you’re both so pure. I can’t even bring myself to tease you.”

“Tease? That’s all you have been doing since the beginning of all of this!” 

“Obviously, I have to get my entertainment from somewhere.“

“You’re a terrible person,” Yuuri said fondly. 

They stared at the city in silence again.  

“How far we have come,” Phichit summed it up. 

Yuuri thought back again to his first days in Detroit. He was so afraid, so homesick the first few months. But he never regretted it. He doubted himself but he never doubted his choice. He thought of Phichit, leaning against his friend a little. He thought of all the time they travelled together to local competitions. And now look at them. They were in Barcelona, ready to compete against each other in the Grand Prix Final.

There were so many times he looked at things from the negative side. For every competition he attended and wanted to win, he already expected a loss. Every medal he actually won, he questioned. And objectively, he knew that it was his anxiety acting up.

But now, it felt like everything up to this point, all the experience whether good and bad were for the sole purpose of getting him here, letting him stand at this particular spot. The possibilities in front of him seemed endless. He gripped the rail with determination.

What did he have left after he was done skating? He would have the memories at least, the relationships he build with the people around him. Everything would still be there, even when he retired.

Viktor said it, didn’t he? There was always another way. There were always other options.

Yuuri wasn’t afraid of the future anymore. But for now, he was going to focus everything on the present and put everything he had in winning the Grand Prix Final.

* * *

They ended up doing some more shopping. Yuuri bought a large bag of nougats and a bottle of olive oil for Mr. and Mrs. Smith, to thank them for all their help. He also bought two cute tiled cat figurines, one for Yuri and one for Otabek.

They hailed a cab, asking their driver if he could drive through the neighborhood with _Sagrada Familia_ so that they could catch the sight of the basilica at night, even if only for a brief moment. Their driver did better than that, taking them there and telling them stories about the city and its neighborhoods.

Arriving in the hotel, they got a message from Celestino asking if they wanted to do dinner together again. Yuuri was in the middle of typing out an answer, when he felt a body press against him from behind, a head leaning on his shoulder, blowing a puff of air into his ear. Phichit had his phone out in an instant, snapping a picture.

“Yuuri,” Chris said into his ears. “Ditch your coach and come eat with me instead.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes, stepping out of Chris’s hold. The Swiss skater was wearing a black shirt and a pair of dark pants that fit him like a second skin, complete with a pair of sunglasses on his head.

“Hi Chris,” Phichit and Yuuri said at the same time. The Swiss skater waited for them to add something more but when they didn’t he let out an explosive sigh.

“You two need a lesson on proper follow-up. If I didn’t know you, I would feel like you were blowing me off.”

“How about a Cup of China podium selfie,” Phichit offered as an apology. After that was done ( _with at least two retakes_ ) Chris looked them over with a smirk.

“I look forward to tomorrow.”

“When did you fly in, Chris?”

“This morning. I didn’t see you at public practice though.”

“We did ours yesterday and Celestino gave us some time off to go sightseeing.”

“Ah, yes. Barcelona is beautiful, isn’t it? How about you tell me more about your day over dinner? I’m waiting for my friend right now and we were going to eat in one of the hotel restaurants.”

Yuuri exchanged looks with Phichit.

“I don’t know... We’re supposed to meet coach Celestino actually.” Yuuri really didn’t feel like eating with a stranger, even if they were Chris’s friend. Or maybe, especially because they were Chris’s friend. You never knew where the night would take you when it came to the Swiss.

The expression on Chris’s face was downright devilish as the other man’s gaze flickered to something behind their backs.

“Are you really sure about that?” he asked them cryptically when somebody called out from behind them.

“Sorry I’m late, Chris!” Yuuri and Phichit froze in shock because there was no way it could be who they thought it was. Yuuri turned around and jumped back because in front of him stood Viktor, easily recognizable even when the other man was wearing a hat that hid most of his distinct silver hair, sunglasses ( _they were indoors???)_ , and Yuuri’s blue scarf wrapped around his neck and covering half of his face. The man hadn’t noticed them yet as he was, for some unexplainable reason, throwing glances behind his back, acting totally suspicious.

“Viktor?!” the Detroit skaters shouted at the same time.

Viktor gasped, turning back and looking at them.

“Oh,” he let out a sound, Chris walking up next to him.

“You kept me waiting, _mon cher_.”

“I—went around the long way to avoid…nevermind,” the Russian seemed to deflate a little bit. He whipped off his hat, sunglasses, but left the scarf on, only tugging it down a little bit. His heart-shape smile was on.

“Hi Yuuri! Hi Phichit!”

Phichit turned to Chris. “We accept your invitation. Can Ciao Ciao come?”

“The more the merrier. I’ll tell Josef to join us too. We’ll hit the hotel bar in the meantime. See you in an hour?”

“45 minutes,” Phichit threw over his shoulder while dragging a still shell-shocked Yuuri towards the elevators. Yuuri kept staring as Chris was telling something to Viktor, who flushed red, tugging his scarf over his nose again.

“Did you know?” he hissed at his friend when they got to their room, Phichit texting Celestino.

“Did _you_ know?” his friend shot back at him. “Go take a shower. I’ll get your clothes ready.”

Yuuri took a shower in a confused daze. Seeing Viktor in Barcelona was as shocking as if he were to show up naked in front of him in Detroit ( _not really)_. Yuuri was so sure that they would only see each other after the GPF that he didn’t even consider any other scenarios. Yuuri put on the clothes Phichit had left him on his bed: a pair of black pants and a simple white collared button-up shirt. He sat down, looking at his phone.

**v-nikiforov**

Today, 6:45 p.m.

Surprise!

☆⌒（＊＾∇゜）v

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was coming.

Are you mad?

of course Im not mad

Yuuri typed and retyped the paragraph where he wanted to ask if Viktor impulsively bought the ticket after their talk without sounding presumptuous, at the same time trying to explain that he just really didn’t expect to bump into him in Spain. It seemed like Viktor had psychic powers because the next message he sent him answered his unvoiced question.

**v-nikiforov**

Today, 6:52 p.m.

I had the plane ticket for a year now.

Bought it right after last year’s series.

why?

To motivate Chris, I guess.

But if I didn’t already have it, I would have bought it anyway.

This way we can have our ‘after GPF’ talk right away.

☆⌒（＊＾∇゜）v

Yuuri chuckled at that. He guessed Viktor was that kind of _extra_ after all.

I’m happy you’re here.

you better still cheer me on though

Of course!

And you owe Makkachin extra treats for making her sad

(∩︵∩)

I’ll see u in 10

<3 can’t wait!

Phichit came out of the restroom with a towel around his waist.

“Contacts day for you tonight, Yuuri,” he pointed back to the bathroom before checking his phone.

“Did Celestino text you back?”

“Yeah, apparently they are already at the bar together.”

“We should hurry then.”

Phichit hastily put on a pair of grey jeans and a black shirt.

“It’s called being fashionably late, actually. But you’re right. Let’s go.”

* * *

Dinner was a loud affair. Celestino, Josef and Viktor must have been drinking for a while now, because their faces were flushed and they were engaged in a very loud conversation, arguing good naturedly about whose county made the best chocolates in the world.

When Yuuri sat down at the table between Viktor and coach Celestino, Viktor watched him the entire time with a goofy smile on his face.

“Hi Viktor.”

“Hi Yuuri!” Viktor moved his chair closer to his, their knees brushing.

“Why are you getting closer?”

“I missed you.” Yuuri blushed, darting his eyes around to see if anybody had heard. Celestino and coach Josef seemed to be completely engaged in a debate over cappuccinos. He wasn’t as lucky with Phichit and Chris though, Phichit whispering something into the other skater’s ears while looking at them, and Chris sending them a suspiciously innocent smile.

“Are you drunk?”

“Just a little!” Viktor responded and then giggled. _Exhibit K – giggling drunk Russian_

“Here, have some water,” Yuuri passed him a glass of the liquid. Viktor took it reverently, looking at him like he gave him the best present on Earth.

“You’re so good to me,” Viktor gushed. “I shall drink all of this for you,” and proceeded to do just that without stopping to take a breath. Celestino started cheering him on. Yuuri wondered if this was going to be one of the crazier nights.

Thankfully it didn’t escalate beyond that, a waiter coming over to refill their glasses of water and take their orders. They decided to do tapas style dinner, Celestino continuously glaring at either Phichit or Yuuri to make sure they didn’t eat any of the more extravagant options. Yuuri was surprised at how comfortable he felt at the table.

They all spent a good half an hour arguing if Starbucks sold real coffee, then revisited the chocolate discussion before Celestino and Josef got nostalgic and started reminiscing about the old times. Phichit told them about the time they both got chased by the geese in Detroit. Chris and Viktor shared the story of when they visited Barcelona together. Yuuri felt a slight pang of jealousy that he quickly tried to stomp down. He had no right to feel jealous, after all. Chris seemed to have noticed though, because he sent him an understanding look and a slight shake of his head, while Viktor was telling them about the time he got roped into baking a three tiered wedding cake the day of the actual event.

At some point, Viktor pulled out his phone, bypassing a folder that simply said _katsudon_ to show him a picture of three stuffed animals propped up next to each other.

“Ta-dah! The cat is for Chris, hamster is for Phichit, and the dog is for you Yuuri. It’s also actually a tissue holder! Isn’t that amazing? I’m going to throw that onto the ice tomorrow! You better catch it.” Yuuri cooed at the photo but then smiled sheepishly.

“Viktor? I usually give all of my gifts to the organizers. They donate them to the local children’s hospitals or school afterwards—” The heartbroken look on Viktor’s face made him take back his statement.

“But I’ll do my best to catch yours, I promise! You just have to make sure to aim at me, okay?”

“Okay!” the Russian nodded with a big smile.

“Too pure,” he heard Phichit say from the other side of the table. Chris shook his head looking at them. “Dorks, both of them.”

His phone vibrated in his pocket, saving him the trouble of thinking up a good come-back.

> Minako-sensei: _where are you?_
> 
> Yuuri: _in the hotel restaurant, in the back_
> 
> Minako-sensei: _which restaurant?_
> 
> Yuuri: _the larger one? I don’t know its name._
> 
> Minako-sensei: _I gotcha. we’re coming_

“Okay kids. Let’s wrap this up. Big day tomorrow,” Celestino said getting up from his chair. He patted coach Josef on his shoulder.

“Ciao Ciao, Minako-sensei said she was coming over now—“

“Actually one more glass of wine won’t hurt,” he said, sitting back down.

Phichit shoved his face into Chris’s shoulder to muffle his laugh.

“Minako-sensei is your ballet instructor, isn’t she?” Viktor asked him. He nodded slightly surprised that the Russian knew about that. They sat there for about ten minutes, a waiter coming to clear out the table for them and refill their glasses. Yuuri could see the exact moment his coach caught sight of Minako-sensei, because his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

A pair of hands suddenly covered his eyes, obscuring his vision. He grumbled good-naturedly.

“Minako-sensei,” he whined out moving to grab the hands, when he registered that the sound of heels continued on, audible even over the low buzz of the conversations around them.

“Chris!” Minako-sensei exclaimed loudly at the same time as Celestino tried to nonchalantly say, “Minako come sit on this side with us.”

But if Minako-sensei was the person somewhere on his left, then who was…He grabbed the hands that were covering his eyes, still expecting the well-manicured, slender fingers of his ballet teacher that hid the strength of an _oni._ He was met instead with a pair of warm hands with slightly dry and cracked skin, smelling of a familiar scented moisturizer. The fingers had callouses, the nails were kept noticeably short.

“ _Guess who?_ ” came an amused voice from behind him. There was no way he wouldn’t recognize the voice right away. He just couldn’t believe it, for the third time this day feeling thrown off of his axis. The voice was clear, in contrast to how it had been sounding for the past six years, slightly modified through the phone or computer speakers.

Yuuri twisted his body around, looking up into a pair of familiar brown eyes. He was only slightly embarrassed to feel the familiar prickling behind his eyes.

“ _It’s been a while, Yuuri._ ”

He got up from his chair, easily folding himself into her hug, feeling like a twelve year old kid again.

“Mari- _neechan._ ”

He felt like he could skate _agape_ without any problem now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Chok di kha_ – [Thai] good luck, feminine pronoun  
>  _gakuran_ – [Japanese] Japanese school uniform for males, usually black. It’s also specifically worn by cheering squads called Oendans. If you rewatch episodes 11-12, it’s the outfit that the triplets and Minami wear.  
>  _oni_ – [Japanese] monster, ogre
> 
> The outfit Yuuri is wearing at the end of the chapter is the one from the anime opening (white shirt with black pants).
> 
> I’ve never been to Barcelona but I had fun imagining and planning out the day for Phichit and Yuuri. They seemed to like  
> taking detours.
> 
> I rewatched episode 10 (a bunch of times) before writing this chapter and really wanted to capture the similar moods from it, like Viktor’s slightly melancholic tone when he thinks back to his life before Yuuri, or what his life would be like without the Japanese skater, or the playful tone he adopts when talking about the other skaters. The last scene at the beach hit me especially hard but I wasn’t able to fit it into the narrative of this chapter so the equivalent of it is where Phichit and Yuuri are standing in Park Guell at the end of the day, looking over Barcelona (if you would like the visual –that’s the same spot that Yuri and Otabek visited).
> 
> I’m going on a mini road-trip so the next chapters won’t be posted for a while. I will respond to your comments as soon as I can (thank you!). Until next time!
> 
> 10/17/17 typos yet again


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grand Prix Final Short Program and Free Skate. In which gold is won and there is no pole dancing (yet).

Yuuri woke up feeling noticeably _off._  

He laid in his bed staring at the darkened ceiling, quickly realizing it was going to be one of those days, negative energy already buzzing through his sleep-ridden body. He turned on his stomach, squinting at the hotel clock, the numbers flashing back informing him that it was still too early to be up.

He looked over at Phichit, a blurry lump in the bed next to him, quickly discarding the idea of waking his friend up. It would be unfair to do that for something this silly, especially on the day of their short program. Yuuri plopped back down, smothering his face into the pillow, his thoughts going to his sister. He was so happy she was there to support him, but he didn’t want to wake her up either, certain that she must be tired from her flight.

Besides, Yuuri wasn’t twelve anymore.

He turned onto his back.

_Okay, Yuuri. One step at the time._

_First, sit up._

He did just that.

_That wasn’t too hard now, was it? Next, get up and go to the bathroom._

That took a little bit longer, Yuuri looking at the bathroom door, his body refusing to budge under his command. When he finally mustered up the minimum energy to move, he made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, stopping at his suitcase to grab his running clothes.

Downstairs in the lobby, Yuuri briefly consulted Google maps before leaving the hotel. He was met with a chilly morning, not unlike that of Detroit during fall. It was still dark outside, the streets illuminated only by the lights from the hotel, nearby buildings, and the lamps lining up the side of the road. He crossed the street, walking in one direction, at some point picking up his pace until he was jogging at a light pace through the neighboring park. His breath materialized in the air as white vapors, the cold seeping deep into his bones. He didn’t care, the morning chill managing to numb the nervous buzzing in his head.

Yuuri heard the sea before he actually saw it, the sound of waves and the crying seagulls throwing him back simultaneously to Hasetsu and Detroit. He stopped near the wall and stone steps leading down to the beach. The sky was slowly gaining a brighter hue despite a few scattered stars still blinking above him. He took a deep breath, letting the scent of the sea wash over him.

He stared into the distance until the sun peeked out from below the horizon, brightening up its line with light shades of yellow and orange. If he looked closely, he could easily imagine a few gold streaks weaving in between.

He rose his hand in front of him to shield his eyes, some sunlight peeking through his fingers.

“I want to win gold at the Grand Prix Final,” he said into the wind without conviction, the confidence from yesterday afternoon all gone.

 _You’re not going to win_ , a voice whispered in his head.

_Stop it._

_You’re not_ , it repeated so matter-of-fact that he felt a sliver of anger course through him.

 _Shut up,_ he said to it firmly

The sound of a barking dog pulled him out of his gloomy thoughts. Yuuri squinted against the light of the rising sun, making out a figure in the distance, their dog running around them in circles. Yuuri's thoughts went to Makka. He brought out his phone where his home screen was now the picture of the adorable poodle and Viktor after their run—the one that caused his midnight melt down about more than a week ago. He felt warm just looking at it, the first real smile of the day breaking out on his face.

As if summoned by his thoughts, his phone suddenly vibrated, Viktor’s name flashing on the screen. Yuuri yelped, nearly dropping his phone.

Viktor had just sent him a photo of the sunrise at a beach, a dog and its owner visible from the distance with the sea as the backdrop. Yuuri looked up, quickly zeroing on a blurry figure standing some steps away from him, close enough for him to make out that they were wearing a brown coat and a blue scarf, but far enough that he couldn’t be sure of much else.  He brought up his phone, snapping a photo, sending it off right away.

There was some movement ahead of him, the person straightening up and twisting their head around before they turned in his direction, waving excitedly. Yuuri jogged up, Viktor meeting him half way, his face getting clearer with each step they took towards each other. He had a large smile on his face and Yuuri felt himself smile back.

“Yuuri!”

“Viktor—”

“Why are you up so early?” they said at the same time, Viktor bursting out laughing and Yuuri covering his mouth with his hand to hide his smile.

“You first,” Yuuri said after they both calmed down.

Viktor tucked his hands in his coat pockets, rocking on his heels. He looked adorable.

“The sun woke me up. If this was Detroit, I would be at the bakery right now.”

“Oh, what happens to _Stammi_ when you’re not there?”

“It still runs. I prepped some things before leaving but Yura knows his way around the bakery. And the café is Otabek’s domain. It’s not the first time they ran it on their own...How about you?” Viktor asked him, leaning back against the stone wall.

“Huh?”

“Why are you out so early?”

“I sometimes wake up with an urge to run,” Yuuri finally said, his eyes flicking away to look at the sea. He let the sound of the waves wash over him again, pushing him to say more. “It helps to calm my mind, somewhat.”

“Is it calm now?” Viktor asked him, voice pitched low, calm like the sound of the sea waves around them. Yuuri thought about it for a second, giving a shrug.

“Anything I can do to help?” the baker added and Yuuri’s lips twitched in amusement, thinking back to their conversation after the “hot mess” incident ( _as dubbed by Phichit_ ).

Yuuri turned towards the beach, staring at the dog again. He finally shook his head thinking that just having Viktor here was enough for him.

Viktor didn’t say anything else, but slowly as if not to spook Yuuri out, he stepped closer until there was only minimal space between them. At first, Yuuri didn’t react, but between one breath and a cry of a seagull, he closed the rest of the distance, leaning his side against Viktor’s.

They didn’t do anything else, just stood there until the dog and its owner were long gone and the sun was much higher in the sky.

Viktor had been doing this a lot.

Meeting him halfway.

Yuuri could get used to it.

* * *

Yuuri paced around the hotel room, briefly looking at his phone. He moved to his suitcase, pulling out Minako’s stuff.

“Hey Phichit. Minako-sensei said she will stop by our room to pick up her things.”

“Okay,” Phichit responded not looking up from his phone.

Yuuri then moved to check his sports bag, making sure he had everything he needed and that his _OMG THE EROS!!!!_ Costume was still in its protective bag. He did the same for Phichit, rummaging through his things, which caused his friend to throw an exasperated look at him.

“Yuuri, you’re stressing me out. Can you please sit down and relax?”

Yuuri plopped himself down onto his bed just to jump out of it again at a rapid knock at their door. He walked over, unlocking it.

“Hello,” Minako-sensei said, pushing her way through without waiting for a formal invitation, his sister following her, Viktor trailing behind them with a grin.

“Viktor?”

“Hey Phichit, hey Yuuri! I bumped into your sister and Minako on the way down to the lobby. Are you heading over to the venue soon?”

“Yes, we have a bunch of things we need to do before the event.”

“How are you two holding up?” Minako-sensei asked, sitting down on Phichit’s bed, the Thai skater scooting over to sit next to her.

“Yuuri had been wearing the carpet down with his pacing.”

“Oi, Yuuri, what’s there to be nervous about?” his former instructor asked him. “You totally have your short program down.” Like Yuuri would admit that his anxiety was acting up.

 _“Don’t you dare waste my eros lessons,_ ” his teacher added in Japanese. Yuuri scowled at her while Mari chuckled, elbowing him lightly.

“ _I don’t think he will have any problems mustering up his eros tonight, Minako,”_ she said, throwing a deliberate look at Viktor.

 _“Mari-neechan!”_ Yuuri whined out, embarrassed.

“I only understood ‘eros.’ What are you guys talking about?” Viktor chimed in.

“Nothing! They were just being mean.”

Phichit looked at his phone. “Hey, Celestino said to meet him downstairs in five.”

His sister hugged him briefly before doing the same to Phichit, who although initially surprised, quickly hugged her back. Yuuri smiled at the sight, turning towards Viktor.

“Nervous?” the Russian asked him.

Yuuri moved his hand in the so-so gesture.

“How about a good luck hug?” Viktor asked him with a wink. “Just ki—“

Yuuri stepped closer, hugging the baker around the waist, smothering his face into his shoulder. He felt Viktor tense up before relaxing, his arms going around Yuuri and pulling him in even closer. Yuuri breathed in the scent of fresh laundry mixed with something sweet, like sugar and cookies. He chuckled. Of course Viktor smelled like cookies.

“Good luck,” he heard Viktor say, the words warming him up like a cup of tea on a chilly morning.

* * *

_The time has come for the Grand Prix Final in the men’s singles category.  Here are the top six skaters in the world who had qualified for the event._

_In sixth place is Michele Crispino of Italy. This is his third time qualifying for the Final. Will he prove that chivalry is not dead with his performance tonight?_

_Next, in fifth place is Georgi Popovich, the only student of Coach Nikolai Plistesky to qualify for the Grand Prix Final thanks to his emotional performances and strong technical scores during the qualifiers._

_Yuuri Katsuki of Japan and last year’s silver medalist of the Grand Prix series, came in fourth, enthralling the audience around the world with his transformation from a delicious pork cutlet bowl into a seductress._

_Phichit Chulanont finished third in the series after becoming the first Thai skater to win gold at the Cup of China. In his first GPF he is hoping to rewrite history for Southeast Asian figure skating._

_Coming in second is Christophe Giacometti of Switzerland. His mature skating, signature quadruple lutz and the surprising addition of a quadruple flip to his roster—will this be enough to secure his second Grand Prix Final gold medal?_

_Finally, in first place is Jean- Jacques Leroy, the bronze medalist of last year’s series. He is the man to beat and the only skater to have won both of his events in this year’s season. JJ sets a high bar for his fellow competitors._

_Now the moment we have all been waiting for. The final round is about to begin, here in Barcelona._

* * *

Yuuri and Phichit did their warm up in silence, waiting for Michele and Georgi to finish their short programs. Yuuri was grateful that the obnoxious buzzing from the morning was completely gone, replaced by a calm he rarely felt before a competition. He double checked that his _omamori_ was securely under his costume sleeve.

Before they knew it, a runner came up to inform them it was time for the second warm up group to get ready. Celestino held back the curtain to the arena for Yuuri and Phichit to step through where they were greeted by cheers and camera flashes. Yuuri took a moment to soak in the atmosphere. Phichit grabbed him by the elbow and they both walked up to the rink entrance.

Taking off his skate guards, Phichit turned to him.

“Should we make it entertaining?”

“Triple-salchows?” Yuuri asked, passing his jacket to their coach.

“Don’t overdo it,” Celestino warned them.

They started off the six minute warm up with a regular lap around the rink, after which Yuuri spun around and went in the opposite directions while Phichit continued on. They started moving in sync, going into part of their exhibition skate, mirroring each other’s movement to the clapping of the audience. They then skated backwards towards the center of the rink. Making sure there was enough distance between them, Yuuri executed a triple-salchow, followed seconds later by Phichit, eliciting gasps and cheering from the people around them.

The horn above them announced there was only one more minute of practice. Yuuri thought he caught a glimpse of Minako-sensei’s white and pink banner, and blobs that could possibly be Viktor with his silver hair, and Mari-neechan next to him. Coming a bit closer he realized he was right but Viktor was looking away and he felt a flash of unreasonable annoyance course through him.

 _Oh no, mister. You don’t get to look away from me tonight,_ he thought before performing a triple-axel to the applause of the audience and just in time for the warm-up to end. Phichit skated up to him, giving him a high-five before they both glided towards the exit, Yuuri staying on the ice while his friend stepped off of it, putting on his blade guards. Phichit pulled him into a quick hug over the rink wall.

“ _Ganba.”_

“ _Khorb Khun Krup_.”

Celestino gave him a wordless thumbs up. Yuuri skated a small lap around, making sure to deliberately look in the direction of where he thought Viktor was sitting.

Throughout this whole season, his _eros_ routine had always been a game of pretend. Pretending to be _katsudon._ Pretending to be a chocolate chip cookie. Pretending to be seductive. Pretending to be a heart breaker. But Yuuri didn’t want to pretend anymore.

Earlier during the public practice he figured something out. When he showed it to his coach, the only thing Celestino told him afterwards, eyebrows raised high but a proud smile on his face was, “You finally found your _eros_ , eh?”

As the sound around him died down, he settled into his starting position. Maybe his sister was right. He wouldn’t have any trouble mustering up his _eros_ today, because there was only one person he wanted to seduce.

The music started, the guitar strings familiar, the movements coming to him like a second nature. The second the intro cut off, he cocked his head to one side, brushing a thumb across his lower lip, smirking.

Violin strings joined the guitar as he skated away letting his body flow with the sound. He laughed a little at how reluctant he had been to dance to _eros_ at the beginning of this season.

The story line that he had come up with during the Cup of China and that Minako-sensei helped him polish used to go like this. _A seductress sets her eyes on the most handsome man in town who continuously denies her advances. Over time as they keep playing the game of love, he inevitably falls in love with her but she breaks his heart, casts him aside and moves on in search of another target, her previous lover already forgotten._

Tonight, Yuuri imagined a different story. As he skated he imagined being the most beautiful woman trying to seduce the most handsome man in town. Yes, the man quickly falls in love with her but for the first time she finds herself equally enthralled. Where before his movements were always meant to seduce, bring somebody in and then push them away, he subtly changed it so that they seemed to be reaching out to an invisible lover, inviting him in with a promise to never let go.

Celestino and Yuuri adjusted the jump components of his short program in order to ensure his base value score would at least be comparable to JJ’s or Chris’s. They kept his signature triple axel but the quad-salchow got upped to a quad-sal triple-toe-loop combination which he managed to land perfectly with a smile.  

Yuuri went into the final movements of his SP, going into a forward lunge across the ice, gathering speed and then launching into a quad-flip. _One, two, three, four -_ he touched down, one hand hitting the ice, but he didn’t care, still in his zone. A mistake like that wouldn’t make him less attractive in the eyes of his lover. As the music reached the finale signaling it was time to leave town, the temptress doesn’t. Deciding to stay together, the two lovers embrace.

The audience erupted around him. He half-laughed half-panted for air, pumping his fists in the air, looking around as stuffed animals were tossed around him. He bowed and waved, spun around and did the same on the other side, casting his eyes around for the familiar looking poodle. He couldn’t find it. He briefly looked at Viktor, grabbing a sushi pillow on his way out. He skated up to the exit, Celestino already waiting there with his skate guards, a huge grin on his face.

“Great job!” he heartily clapped him on the back. He made to follow him to the kiss and cry but Yuuri shook his head, pushing his coach away, laughing.

“I’ll be fine! Go with Phichit, _Ciao Ciao._ ”

In the kiss and cry, he waited anxiously for his score, hugging the sushi plush tightly to his chest. He flubbed his quad-flip so he knew he wouldn’t get the score he expected. The numbers flashed in front of him, the announcement coming simultaneously from above informing him he was currently in first. Despite the deduction, he easily broke the 100 point barrier and even surpassed his personal best. He waved at the cameras with a grin, staying in his seat to watch Phichit from the large screens above him. 

His best friend had just skated out onto the ice, stopping in the middle, the gold hems of his SP outfit glittering under the arena lights. The moment the music started, the audience immediately started clapping in rhythm with the song. Phichit was always good at expressing his emotions through his dancing, but today his performance was electrifying and utterly captivating. He’d really made the music his own. Yuuri had no doubt that for years to come, _Shall We Skate_ would be tied to Phichit Chulanont’s figure skating performance. Yuuri thought back to the time when Phichit first told him about his dream of wanting to one day dance to “ _Shall We Skate”_ in a major competition, adding with certainty that Yuuri would be there right beside him. He smiled. How far they have both come.

Yuuri waited with baited breath at what he knew was coming as the song came to close. When Phichit took off from the ice, Yuuri too jumped out of his seat counting the rotations in his head – _one, two, three, four—_ Phichit nailing the quad-salchow. He clapped and cheered with the rest of the audience afterwards, feeling pride at his friend’s accomplishment. He stayed on his feet until the end and was the first to greet Phichit at the kiss and cry, the Thai jumping into his arms with tears in his eyes. Celestino looked thunderous, shouting something in Italian, but when the score got announced he pulled both of them into a crushing hug. Phichit had hit his personal best, his score slightly below Yuuri’s but still above 100, bringing him to second place.

An ISU person came to ask them to leave the kiss and cry. They ended up watching Chris’s performance from the screen in the back. Unsurprisingly, Chris had replaced one of his jumps in the short with the quad flip. As they waited for his score to be announced, Yuuri already knew that he had surpassed all of them. His eyes widened though, Chris managing to break the world record for the short program, thus rocketing him to first place. He felt a pang of disappointment, but he clapped and genuinely cheered for his friend.

“The free is where it counts anyway,” Phichit told him.

They waited for JJ to come out, the Canadian skating to the center of the ice rink, waving at the audience who was already chanting his name. Yuuri always thought that the support the Canadian got was both impressive and terrifying. He wondered how the younger skater managed not to succumb to the pressure of all their expectations. His eyes widened as JJ’s short program started. The only way to describe the whole situation on the ice was that JJ seemed to have self-destructed. His first combination changed to a single quad, his triples became singles.

“Oh no,” Phichit whispered at his side. The Canadian looked stiffer by the second. Yuuri winced. It was like looking at himself during his last Junior Grand Prix. Yuuri remembered falling apart, the rest of his performance a huge blank in his memory even now.

As the seconds ticked on, Yuuri amended his thoughts. _This was different_. He watched as JJ grinned widely, mouthing the words to his song, the audience joining him in singing his theme. JJ wasn’t a person to get stuck in one place. No one had the right to mock the challenge he’d taken on. He could have given up but with each second JJ seemed to regain a little bit more of his confidence, and despite his quad lutz being downgraded to a single, he finished up his short with his usual flair.

You could hear a pin drop while everybody was waiting to hear his score, a collective gasp running through the audience as JJ’s score flashed on the screen, announcing he was in sixth place with a score of 85.45. Before any more shocked murmurs could break out, a pretty girl got up chanting JJ’s name. The camera zoomed in on her face, and Yuuri smiled as he saw her smiling proudly through her tears. He thought he recognized her as JJ’s girlfriend, who always came to his competitions to support him. Second later people around joined her, clapping and cheering, until JJ jumped out of his seat giving them his signature pose.

“It’s JJ style!” he said through his own tears.

“Incredible,” Phichit summed it up, shaking his head. Yuuri nodded.

“Lucky man, eh?” Celestino said.

Current standing after the short program flashed across the screen.

MEN, RESULT AFTER SHORT PROGRAM

Christophe GIACOMETTI                 118.56  
Yuuri KATSUKI                                109.97  
Phichit CHULANONT                       102.37  
GeorgiI POPOVICH                           98.17  
Michele CRISPINO                             95.73  
Jean-Jacques LEROY                         85.87

* * *

After being accosted for some interviews and not being able to find Phichit, Yuuri headed back to the locker rooms to grab his things. Rounding the corner he saw that Chris was already inside talking animatedly on his phone. The Swiss skater froze up when Yuuri entered, but then said something into his phone, tapping a few buttons on the screen with one hand, waving Yuuri over with the other. Yuuri hesitantly approached him.

“Yuuri!” His eyes widened at the familiar voice and face staring back at him from Chris’s phone.

“Cao?”

“Congrats on your great short program. I was just telling Chris that if he doesn’t keep up his A-game, you’re going to snatch away his gold medal tomorrow.”

“I would love to see him try, Cao,” Chris said, smirking at Yuuri.

Yuuri felt a flash of annoyance.

He was competitive. And petty after all.

“I’ll make you eat your words, Chris. Just you wait—“

“Oooohhhhh,” came an impressed sound from Cao at the same time as Chris let out a low chuckle. “Keep that up, Katsuki.”

Yuuri sat down next to Chris looking at the phone screen. “How have you been?”

“Eh…normal. I’ve had so much free time, it’s actually getting boring.”

“I heard about your coaching license.”

“Yes! Before you know it, you’ll start seeing me at competitions again. Just on the other side of the rink. Actually, I’ll be attending Worlds this year shadowing Coach Xiao Yi and little Guang Hong. Hopefully, I’ll see you there, yes?”

“You can bet on it, my dear friend,” Chris told him.

“Don’t be strangers. Especially you, Yuuri,” Cao added with a smile. “Bye!”

“ _Au revoir_ —” “Wait, Cao!” Chris and Yuuri said at the same time.

The Chinese looked at him questioningly. Yuuri blushed not knowing what to say.

“Ah…it’s good to see you,” Yuuri finally stammered out.

The Chinese skater smiled at him warmly, “You too. Good luck tomorrow.”

Chris and Yuuri sat in silence, the Swiss skater putting away his phone.

Yuuri let out a loud sigh of relief, startling when Chris did the same next to him. They looked at each other in shock before laughing, tension escaping from their bodies.

“He looked good, didn’t he?” Chris said.

“Yeah…healthy. Content. I’m glad.” Yuuri responded.

Chris looked like he was about to add something else but the sound of the door opening interrupted him. Seconds later Celestino stomped in, his brows furrowed in deep thought, Phichit trailing behind. Yuuri sent him a confused look but Phichit just shrugged from behind their coach.

“I’m sorry, Chris. Do you mind if I talk to these two in private?” Celestino turned to the Swiss skater.

Chris nodded, getting up and grabbing his stuff. He patted Yuuri on the shoulder, leaving the room.

“Coach Celestino? What’s going on—“

“When did you learn the quad-sal?” Celestino rounded up on Phichit. “Actually, don't answer it. I don't want to know how long you have been going behind my back.”

“But _Ciao Ciao—_ ” Phichit started, his eyebrows disappearing under his bangs.

“Don’t _Ciao Ciao_ me right now. First, Yuuri goes ahead and learns the quad-loop on his own—“

“I haven’t technically landed it pro—“

“Don’t interrupt me,” Celestino cut him off with a sharp tone without turning away from Phichit. “Now _you_ pull out a quad-salchow from nowhere.”

“I thought you would be happy for me…” Phichit said, clenching his fists at his side.

Celestino took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Just because I’m proud of your accomplishments as skaters doesn't mean I am happy that you put yourself in needless risk of early injury that could have easily cut your career short!” Phichit flinched away. It was rare for Celestino to raise his voice in anything other than excitement.

“But Yuuri helped me—“ Yuuri winced, knowing that it was the wrong thing to say. Right on cue, Celestino exploded, turning towards him,

“You knew about this?! Yuuri, I thought you knew better than this.”

“I do, coach. I do now,” Yuuri tried to placate, guilt gnawing at his gut. Phichit had approached him earlier this season asking for advice about his quads. Since Yuuri was already practicing the loop on his own, he didn't think twice when Phichit asked him to coach him on the salchow. Truthfully, he really didn’t even think of his coach’s reaction and definitely didn’t expect Celestino to blow up on them like this. Especially after being fine with his unfinished quad-loop. He felt a prickling behind his eyes, his ears turning warm from embarrassment.

“There comes a time when as your coach I will tell you to do things or not do them and trust you to listen. If you truly believe I’m in the wrong you will come and talk to me and we will discuss this as a team, do you understand? Because that's what we are.”

They nodded in silence. Phichit wiped at his eyes, shakily saying, “Hashtag Detroit skating fam.” Yuuri let out a weak chuckle. Even Celestino broke a smile, becoming serious once more.

“Phichit, your height on the salchow is still too low. You know what this means.”

“More conditioning?” Phichit said.

“Yes. And less of the diet breaking.”

“Who us?”

“I have Instagram too you know. Stop posting every time you eat behind my back.”

“I’m sorry, coach,” Phichit said after a beat, Yuuri nodding emphatically along.

“I’m sorry too,” Celestino finally said, his shoulders slumped.

“Why?” Yuuri and Phichit asked at the same time.

“I was going to wait until after the final to talk to you about this, but then I just…”

“Blew a gasket?” Phichit provided helpfully.

“Freaked out?” Yuuri added.

“Hit the ceiling?”

“Is this another roast-your-coach session?”

“I’m pretty sure this was a roast-your-students-on-low-fire session,” Phichit murmured under his nose.

“After GPF we will sit down and talk about your future plans and goals and then we are going to come up with a plan to make them happen, yes?” At their nods he added, “Good. Let’s go.”

“Coach Celestino—” Yuuri called out. His coach stopped at the door, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

“ _Grazie_ ,” Yuuri bowed low at his waist, Phichit following suit by bowing his head.  Celestino sighed, walking up to them.

“Up. Up! No need for this—” He got tackled into a group hug by both skaters. “Oh, okay, fine.” He hugged them back just as tightly.

* * *

Getting back into the hotel was no small feat, the fans and the journalists crowding in front of the building, blocking the way. Yuuri managed to (politely) push his way through until he was inside the safety of the hotel lobby. He looked back to see if Phichit and Celestino managed to follow him when there was a shout from behind him.

“Yuuri!” He twisted around zeroing in on a fast-approaching Viktor, his sister and Minako-sensei getting up from the sofa and following at a more sedated pace. Viktor looked like he was going to tackle him, but fortunately ( _or unfortunately if he thought about it_ ) caught himself right in front of Yuuri.

“You were amazing! I couldn’t take my eyes off of you!” he gushed out in one breath. _Exhibit I lost count – starry eyed and heart-shaped smile._ Yuuri _preened_ under his gaze.

“I’m glad to hear that… I’m sorry I couldn’t find your plushie.”

Viktor pulled out something from the paper bag he was holding, shyly handing him the Makkachin look-a-like tissue holder. “I chickened out and didn’t toss it earlier. I really wanted you to have it.”

“Vitya?!” a passing by Nikolai Plisetsky suddenly did a double take at seeing them. “What are you doing here?!”

“ _Deda_!” Viktor jumped on the much older man who shouted something out in Russian, Viktor quickly getting off of him repeating s _orry, sorry._ They started talking animatedly, Nikolai actually smiling. Yuuri looked at the scene with wonder.

Minako-sensei came up to him. “Hey kiddo. Congrats on your performance. Wanna grab dinner together?”

“Where is Phichit?” his sister asked. Yuuri tore his eyes away from Viktor, pointing behind him.

“He’s somewhere in the crowd. I just need to go drop off my stuff and change.”

“I’ll message him to see if he wants to join us later,” Mari said, pulling out her phone.

“I’m going to hit the bar in the meantime,” Minako said, stopping on the way to clap Viktor on the back.

Yuuri hesitantly approached the Russian pair, nodding at Coach Plisetsky. “Sorry Viktor, I have to go. Thank you again for the tissue holder.”

Viktor nodded, looking torn between talking to him and staying with his granddad, but in the end he gave him a smile. “I’ll talk to you later, Yuuri. Good luck!”

“Good performance today,” Coach Plisetsky told him gruffly.

“Thank you,” Yuuri bowed, giving Viktor a last wave.

Inside the elevator where nobody was looking, he squeezed the Makkachin toy close to his chest, his heart pounding like a _taiko_ drum. The smile on his face didn’t leave him for a long time.

* * *

 

 

> Mari: Phichit, would you like to have dinner with us
> 
> Phichit: thanks Mari!
> 
> ☆⌒（＊＾∇゜）v
> 
> But im going out with Chris and his bf
> 
> Phichit: You guys have fun k
> 
> Mari: ok

* * *

Minako led them to a small restaurant with outdoor seating under a plastic tent, a short walk away from their hotel. Over dinner of paella and grilled shrimp, Yuuri recounted his conversation with Celestino and Phichit to Minako-sensei and his sister.

“Of course he would get angry at you,” Minako said waving her fork for emphasis. “That’s probably the number one fear of any coach or teacher out there—for their students to get injured under their watch. It was irresponsible of you not only to practice your own jumps in secret, but also to let Phichit do the same-”

“Minako,” Mari interrupted her. Yuuri looked down, pushing an olive around his plate, ears turning warm from shame.

“In any case, what’s done is done and in the end you guys managed on your own just fine. And I can tell you, just because he was mad, doesn’t mean that your coach isn’t proud of you.”

“I just…I just don’t understand. He seemed fine with me doing the quad-loop on my own, but then he blew up over Phichit’s salchow.”

“Oh Yuuri,” his sister shook her head at him, exchanging looks with Minako.

“What?”

“He told me about it….” Minako-sensei finally said. “How long have you known him?”

Yuuri blinked at the non sequitur but still answered. “Six years.”

“Would you say he’s been a good coach to you?” Yuuri nodded without hesitation.

“No offense, Yuuri. But you’re not the easiest person to handle.” Coming from anybody but his sister, Yuuri would probably be offended. But since she was the one saying it, he had to think about it. “You’re like…a shrinking violet?

“More like, you sometimes can’t handle criticism,” Minako amended. “Six year with you...doesn’t it mean that Celestino knows you? What would have happened if he flipped out at you after Skate Canada?”

Yuuri opened his mouth, and then closed it. He recalled the conversation he had with Celestino at the airport right after his first event. Yuuri…Yuuri wasn’t feeling well that time, mad at himself for messing up his jumps. When his coach brought up the changes Yuuri had made to his program in secret, he was ready to get scolded, curling in on himself. But then Ciao Ciao didn’t, and Yuuri couldn’t help but feel relief. In fact, his coach had encouraged him to keep those changes, telling him that they would be practicing them together in the future. And that was that. And then there was that time after _Trophée de France,_ his coach somehow knowing that Yuuri was at the skating rink without him telling him anything, letting him practice the quad-flip until late into the night.

“If you ask me, it’s not that he wasn’t mad at you at that time. He just kept it in, because he knew that shouting at you would do more harm than good. But seeing another of his students putting himself at risk was probably the proverbial last straw. Sorry, it’s hard for me to explain.” Minako said.

“The feelings of a teacher are complicated and often contradict each other. You want to shield your students but also push them to get out of their comfort zone. You want them to be independent but you’re scared when they go off on their own.”

Yuuri pushed away his plate. He…he didn’t regret learning the loop on his own. And he could still feel the pride at Phichit nailing his quad-salchow and getting a personal best for that. But he mentally winced, recalling Cao’s injury from last year, thoughts inevitably going to Yura as well.

He imagined what would have happened if Phichit had injured himself during one of their practices. Yuuri would never forgive himself if anything had happened to the younger skater. And if it was something that Yuuri could have prevented but didn’t…

“Oh…” truthfully, it would have probably traumatized him for life. Would he stop skating out of guilt? Didn’t the exact thing happen with him after Cao? Him not being able to do the quad-flip for a while? Maybe Celestino realized that even before Yuuri did.

“Okay, serious conversation over. Yuuri, please wipe away that kicked-puppy look.” Minako told him.

Mari-neechan started piling more food onto his plate. “Like Minako said, what’s done is done. You know better now—eat,” his sister insisted, passing him his fork.

“Anyway,” Minako smirked at him,  pointing her beer bottle at him. “I guess the temptress has finally been seduced, huh?”

Yuuri sighed. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

The rest of the dinner was spent talking about Hasetsu, about all the shenanigans that the Nishigori triplets got into on a regular basis, about the last time Minako was in Barcelona, about random things that happen at the onsen. His two companions managed to pull out the story of how he came up with the theme for this year, laughing uproariously when he told them it came from a cooking show. Sitting there with Minako-sensei and his sister, Yuuri felt content. He would worry about the future later. For now, this was enough.

* * *

When he got back, Phichit was already in his bed. He didn’t look like he went out at all but Yuuri decided not to point that out. He quickly changed into his PJs, brushed his teeth and came back to the room. He climbed into Phichit’s bed, his friend making room for the both of them without a word. They stared at the wall together in silence.

“It’s been a while since Ciao Ciao scolded us this much,” Yuuri finally said.

“We screwed up, didn’t we?”

“Just a little.”

“I do forget sometimes that we aren’t invincible,” Phichit said. “Especially when you’re on the ice, you know? It feels like we will stand there forever.”

“But it won’t last,” Yuuri said mostly to himself, hearing the cheering and applause in his ears, seeing the cameras flashing around him, the ice glittering under his skates like the stars above Hasetsu on a clear summer night.

“No, it won’t,” Phichit responded. “You know, I’ve been thinking about Ciao Ciao’s words. I…I would like to have my own ice-show one day. Back in Thailand. I would like to invite my friends to perform with me, to show everybody at home how much fun ice skating can be. I want to be able to leave my own mark in the world that way.”

Yuuri thought to himself that it really fit Phichit—that kind of a dream.

“I think that’s wonderful. But Phichit. About leaving your own mark on the world… I think you already have.” At his friend bemused look, Yuuri continued.  

“You're the first Thai figure skater to compete on the international arena and qualify for the Grand Prix series. Did you see that crowd that came here from Thailand just to cheer you on? I bet there are little Thai skaters around the world dreaming of skating on the same ice as you one day.”

“Oh gee. Stop it,” Phichit managed to say, his face turning beet red. Yuuri grinned at his friend’s rare show of bashfulness.

“You're like…Antoni Gaudí of figure skating! You’re currently designing and building your _Sagrada Familia_ through your skating and you will keep doing that with your ice shows. But it will be up to the next generations to finish it after you step down. And then _way_ into the future, you will be credited as the first skater to bring Thailand to the forefront of competitive figure skating. Wikipedia page and all.” His friend laughed at that.

“Phichit Chulanont—Antoni Gaudí of Thai figure skating. It has a nice ring, doesn't it?” Phichit said, leaning back against the headboard. “Thanks, Yuuri. You always know what to say to cheer me on.” Yuuri thought back to the many times his friend had helped him over the years. This was nothing.

“That’s what friends are for, right? And I will even perform in your ice shows. Just make it worth my while. I charge really high rates.”

“I’ll pay you in lots of love and mango sticky rice.”

“That works too.”

* * *

**yuri-plisetsky**

Today, 8:50 AM

[photo of Yuri, Otabek, Makkachin and Potya in their living room; Otabek holding the Thai flag, Yuri holding the Japanese flag]

Good luck you two

Thank you <3

Thanks!!!

* * *

The order in which the skaters performed in the GPF was decided by their final rankings in the qualifiers, each skater getting a certain number of points depending on their placements on the podium in their qualifying events. Phichit having placed first at the Cup of China and third at Skate America, was ranked higher than Yuuri due to his gold medal, even though their combined points were the same. The skaters then performed their free skates in the reverse order to their standings after the short program, meaning that Yuuri was going to go after Phichit but before Chris who was first after the SP.

The first group had just finished their warm up, JJ staying on the ice while Michele stepped off of it to be greeted by Sara, his sister. The Canadian skater seemed to still be shaken from his short program failure, missing the cue for his music, which would definitely result in point deductions. Yuuri clenched his fists, rooting for the younger skater. The cheering around him wasn’t helping JJ today, his movements stiff and the first few jumps unsure. But something must have changed in him midway, similar to what happened during his SP, because the Canadian’s movements seemed to be gaining back his usual confidence. The cameras zoomed in, picking out a smile on his face.

Yuuri found himself clapping alongside everybody when JJ managed to land his quad-loop, feeling no small amount of admiration for the younger skater.

He continued to watch as the Leroy family walk through the door, JJ’s head held high but the disappointed slump of his shoulders no different from Cao’s from last year. It looked like the coaches were trying to say something to JJ but the younger skater wasn’t listening. When his mom reached out to him, he gently pushed her away. He said something, before walking away without looking back. Mrs. Leroy’s hand was still hanging in the air, reaching out towards her son. Her husband stepped closer, taking her hand into his own and pulling her into a hug. Yuuri couldn’t look away.

He thought of his parents with their quiet support and kind words. They never cared whether he lost or didn’t place on the podium. Every time, without fail, they would say that he did great. That he was amazing and that they were proud of him. Whenever he beat himself for not placing high enough, or for not qualifying for the next event, they would simply ask if he had fun. And he would get upset at their simplistic view. And Yuuri suddenly felt shame. Because he always brushed their kind words aside, didn’t he? Every time when somebody would try to console him he would think they were doing it out of pity. It didn’t matter who it was. It’s just…the people that were really close to him learned to deal with it in their own way. Phichit for example would get angry and scream at Yuuri to stop wallowing. Mari- _neechan_ would stare at him until he reluctantly back tracked.

He quickly looked at the screen where Michele was finishing his program making a split second decision. He had some time. Not a lot. But some.

“Hey Gaudí,” Yuuri turned to Phichit, “ _Chok di krup._ ”

“Huh?”

“I’ll be back,” he took off.

“Yuuri? What—“ his coach shouted after him.

As far as post-competition crying spots, he would probably consider himself a pro at finding those. For example, he was intimately familiar with the men’s restrooms at the Seongsa Ice Rink in Goyang. He went to the three closest restrooms and locker rooms, getting lucky on his third try. The room seemed empty at a first glance, but the door to one of the stalls was suspiciously closed. Coming closer, Yuuri could see a little bit of green peeking from below it. And when he strained his ears he could hear quiet sniffling.

He hesitated, thinking that if this was him…he wouldn’t want anybody to witness his moment of vulnerability. But a louder sniff came from behind the door and Yuuri was suddenly reminded that JJ was younger than him, younger than even Phichit.  And in another reality, in another time, they could have been rink mates in Detroit. That pushed him to close the rest of the distance and knock on the door.

“S-sorry! It’s o-occupied,” a shaky voice came from behind it. Yuuri nearly rolled his eyes. He was slightly surprised to be reminded that, yes, JJ was actually Canadian.

“I know,” he said. ”JJ, will you open the door? It’s Yuuri, Yuuri Katsuki--” the moment his name left his mouth there was the sound of hasty scrambling, the Canadian jumping out of his hiding spot, nearly killing him with the door.

“What in the world, Katsuki?! You still have your free skate. What are you doing here?! Go, go!” and started pushing him out of the bathroom. Yuuri stubbornly dug his heels into the ground, twisting his body around. JJ stared back at him with blood-shot eyes, tears still dripping down his face, looking very _ugly_.

“Your performance was amazing,” Yuuri blurted out. JJ froze, looking at him in shock.

“I mean it. Especially at the end. Watching your performance I think I finally understand what Celestino means by _umf.”_

JJ let go of him wordlessly, staying silent for a beat before bursting into a slightly hysterical laugh. Yuuri wasn’t sure what brought that on, but at least the younger man wasn’t crying anymore. He watched as the Canadian skater doubled over, holding his stomach, his body shaking with barely contained mirth. Yuuri smiled a bit. When he finally calmed down, JJ managed to wheeze out.

“Truthfully, I’ve never really understood what Coach Celestino meant by _umf. ‘_ JJ style’ is all I needed.”

At that, Yuuri also laughed. “Me either.”

JJ looked a little bit more relaxed now, a smile on his face. It quickly disappeared when his phone vibrated, “Isabella-love” flashing on the screen. JJ didn’t make a move to take the phone call.

“Aren’t you going to pick it up?”

JJ shook his head. “After bombing the GPF, she’s probably calling to break off our engagement.”

“You’re engaged? Congratulations.”

“Not for long. I’m such a fool…I proposed to her saying we would get married after I win gold. There’s no way that’s happening anymore. Not unless everybody else messes up terribly. But like I could ever accept that kind of victory.”

Yuuri was surprised to see a lot of himself in the Canadian. What he did next he blamed on pre-competition stress. He hit the other skater over the head with his fist, similar to how Minako-sensei often did to him when he was being stupid. JJ squawked in indignation.

“What was that for?!”

Yuuri pulled out his own phone, going straight to his Instagram account. He scrolled past the many photos on his feed, locating the one that he briefly saw last night, shoving his phone into JJ’s face.

“Is this a face of somebody that’s planning on breaking up with you?”

Isabella was standing in between the Leroys, the three of them smiling brightly while holding up the Canadian flag. The caption underneath it said, “Thank you @jjleroy!15, the pride of Canada and my love.” JJ teared up again, snot dripping from his nose. Yuuri walked over to the paper towel dispensers, passing some tissue to the other skater.

“We tend to be our harshest critics,” Yuuri said. He recalled so many times when coach Celestino told him the exact thing but in never really clicked for him until now. “Other people, especially the ones that love us…they don’t care. We think that we have to deserve their support…that we need to do something to deserve their love…but it’s not true, right?” JJ shook his head.

“Good.” Yuuri nodded. He walked over to the sink to wash his hands. He was soon joined by JJ, who splashed some water on his face, blowing out his nose. They stayed in the restroom until JJ’s eyes were less red and he looked a little bit more put together. The silence was broken by JJ’s phone, Isabella calling him again. This time JJ looked at Yuuri, who nodded in encouragement.

JJ cleared his throat, taking the call. ”Hey babe! What’s u—“ he was cut off by a loud and fast stream of words from the other end of the line. JJ hunched in on himself but then his eyes widened and he let out a laugh. Honest and bright.

Yuuri figured his job here was done. He needed to get back before his free started. He turned around, a hand on his shoulder stopping him for a brief moment. JJ still had his ear to his phone, but he smiled at him.

”Thank you, Yuuri. Good luck!”

* * *

Yuuri rushed back just in time for the beginning of Phichit’s free. He didn’t watch his friend’s performance, warming up carefully in the backroom. A runner came to find him when it was time to go, Yuuri walking out to the arena on his own. He was surprised to see his coach waiting for him instead of at the kiss and cry. Glancing over there, he caught sight of Phichit waving at him excitedly.

Phichit’s score flashed above on the scoreboard, rocketing the Thai skater into the first spot.

Yuuri took off his jacket, skate guards, and glasses, passing them to Celestino. He went out on the ice for warm up, joined shortly after by Chris. When the six minutes where up they both skated back to the entrance, Chris brushing a hand over Yuuri’s hip with a wink, before stepping off of the ice.

“Make us proud, eh?” Celestino said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

He skated to the center of the rink, gaze flicking towards Celestino and Phichit, both of the giving him a thumbs up. His gaze then moved to the audience. It was blurry, but he could make out Viktor, Minako and Mari simply by the color of their clothes and the white banner with hot pink lettering that they were waving around excitedly along with the Japanese flag. They were sitting in the bleachers right behind and above where Phichit and his coach were standing, just as they had told him they would before he left the hotel in the morning.

He settled into his starting position, hands positioned in front of him.

As the music started in the beautiful notes of the piano, Yuuri thought back to his skating career so far. Throughout his career he’d always felt that he was fighting alone. He was aware on some level that that was untrue. His family and friends supported him, but even then he thought that he didn’t deserve it and thus couldn’t really take full advantage of their support. But trying to discover the meaning of _agape_ this season made him realize a few things.

He realized that he was surrounded by many forms of _love_.  He realized that even though he thought he was fighting on his own, he’d never been alone, not really. He just didn’t see it until now.

 _Yuri on Ice_ was a tribute to his skating career, but it was also a _love letter_ to the sport itself and the people that brought him there.

More than that, it was a _thank you_ to Minako-sensei and Yuu-chan for sparking his love for figure skating.

It was a _thank you_ to Mari-neechan and his parents, who loved him unconditionally and never asked for anything in return.

It was a _thank you_ to Coach Celestino and Phichit, who pushed and pulled until the only thing he could do was follow and turned out for te better.

Wasn’t it poignant that the people that were here with him in Barcelona represented different parts of his life and different parts of his career? His sister and Minako-sensei represented his time in Hasetsu where he first discovered his love for ice skating. His thoughts inevitably went to Yuu-chan and her stead- fast belief that he would one day compete internationally alongside the best of the best. He thought of Takeshi and the triplets, his self-proclaimed biggest fans. He thought of his mom and dad, who did everything they could to make his dream come true.

Launching into his triple-lutz triple-toe-loop combination, he thought of Chris who was his steady companion through his Junior times.

During the final step sequence, he thought of Coach Celestino, who took him on as a student despite Yuuri not having many accomplishments under his belt. He thought of Phichit, his dearest best friend with his sunny smiles and love for hamsters, rivaled only by his love for ice skating.

Here was his past, present, and maybe future in the form of an excitable Russian with his heart-shaped smile, overuse of kaomoji, a beautiful poodle, and blue eyes like the sea. As selfish as it was of him to ask for this, he wished for a future in which Viktor would continue to meet him half way.

He didn’t remember who said it, but somebody once told him that they called everything on ice “ _love.”_

Yuuri let himself believe that, launching into his final jump—a soaring quad flip, landing it without hesitation. As he came out of his last combination spin, instead of settling back into the opening pose that was meant to signify the tying of his past and present, the hands in front of him symbolizing the idea that his _love_ for ice skating and his family was something precious and fragile that he was willing to protect, Yuuri made a change that felt as natural as breathing.

He swept his hands widely above him in time with the final notes of his theme, opening himself up to the many possibilities that the future had to offer, letting one hand settle over his heart, extending the other in front of him towards one particular side of the rink. Tears gathered in his eyes.

 _Love_ was precious but it was in no way fragile.

It was strong, and encompassing, and overpowering, and _so, so warm._

Like freshly baked chocolate chip cookies or a cup of hot tea on a chilly morning.

Like a cat curled up on his lap. Like a dog’s bark before he got showered with doggy kisses.

Love was in the hair ruffles and proud smiles.

It was in the packages received from overseas.

It was felt in the hugs right before he was pulled into another selfie.

Through his tears he could barely make out the blurs that were Celestino gripping the rink side wall, and Phichit who had his hands over his mouth. He could barely make out the hot pink banner held up by Minako-sensei and Mari. But when he finally blinked his tears away, he saw with clarity that Viktor was out of his seat, leaning on the rail, looking at him— _really_ looking at him.

Yuuri looked around at the audience and the flashing cameras, panting for breath, the sound rushing back at him at once, filling his ears with the cheering and clapping of the hundreds of people around him.

The ice around him glittered, conjuring an image of a breath-taking galaxy.

Yuuri smiled.

 _This_ was also home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SP announcements were partially taken from episode 11. Also, some of Yuuri’s thoughts during JJ’s short were from episode 11 as well.
> 
> I think JJ gets an unfair amount of hate in some parts of the fandom. Please go read [ Timezones and Tricky Translations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11114595#work_endnotes). It’s so good.
> 
> And that’s it, folks! Only the epilogue left now. 
> 
> Do you ever write a scene and then wonder, did I really come up with this or has somebody else already done it? I read so many fanfiction that they sometimes blend together, and I want to say that they were the source of my inspiration but at the same time I don’t want to be unintentionally plagiarizing anybody. So if you think something is getting too close to another story, please let me know. I will definitely credit them (if I’d read it and agree with the assessment).
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, commenting, kudos. Until next time!!!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is the post-series banquet, Exhibition Gala, and a proposal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FLUFF! SMOOCHES! THE END! 
> 
> There are links to songs to everybody's EX programs. I linked in some ice skating routines in as well just for fun.
> 
> Without further ado…

Yuuri wasn’t a big fan of banquets. Actually, that was a huge understatement. He didn’t like them _at all_. They were, however, a necessary evil, and worst of all—mandatory. If not in the eyes of the ISU than definitely according to Celestino.

So he called upon his ancestors, the honorable samurai, to give him strength to survive the night ( _his family was descended from a proud line of merchants but whatever_ ), and proceeded to try to blend in with the wall and hope nobody would notice.

Yuuri, however, miscalculated, forgetting about two very important things. Firstly, he realized quickly that it was hard to disappear when you were a gold medalist, people literally lining up to talk to you and congratulate you ( _and wasn’t that terrifying_?). Secondly, every time he tried to slink away into the shadows, Phichit would drag him back to the center. At least the Thai skater kept him company throughout the whole ordeal. Yuuri found that it was easier to talk to the people that approached him if they were all engaged in a three way conversation, Phichit jumping in without fail when Yuuri’s words failed him.

The hours dragged on but got a little bit easier with each champagne glass he drank and for the first time he felt himself loosening up. He wasn’t sure how many he drank but at some point Phichit replaced the champagne flutes with glasses of water telling him to save up for the fun later tonight. He loved Phichit. He was so smart and so good to him. Yuuri didn’t deserve him.

They finally approached Celestino, and Yuuri wanted to say that the combined power of the GazeTM and the VoiceTM caused their coach to finally let them go. “I don’t want any PR nightmare, understand?” were his parting words before he shooed them away.

They managed to sneak out without much problem, grabbing Chris on the way ( _Ohhhh, a threesome? How shameless._ ). The banquet was thankfully in their hotel, so it wasn’t hard to make their way back to the lobby. Viktor was already waiting for them outside the hotel. Catching sight of the silver-haired baker, illuminated prettily by the fairy lights strung above the entrance, Yuuri’s face split into a grin. He barreled into the other man from behind, squeezing his arms around his middle. He thought he heard something crack.

“Viktor!” he said into his shoulder. Viktor smelled so _nice_.

“Oh, hello there,” the Russian man wheezed out, amusement still clear in his voice. He twisted his body around, hugging him back.

“Four people might be a little bit too much even for me,” Yuuri heard Chris say. They all ignored him.

Yuuri nuzzled more into Viktor who told them, “I know where Mari and Minako went. Let’s go and get them.”

“Mind if I call Masumi?” Chris asked, already pulling out his phone.

“The more the merrier!” Phichit exclaimed. “I found a karaoke place not far from here. Let’s hit it after we eat real food.”

“Are you drunk?” Viktor asked him, one arm around his waist now. Yuuri grinned up at him.

“Maybe just a little!”

And the rest of the night passed in a blur.

Yuuri woke up shirtless and with a splitting headache. The curtains were left partially open, allowing the sunlight to stream in right across Yuuri’s bed. He groaned quietly, shielding his eyes from the morning light. Real awareness came to him slowly, filtering through his headache. He realized that somebody was holding his hand.

When he managed to crack open his eyes again, he turned his head to the side, seeing Mari curled up next to him, one hand covering his. After the initial moment of confusion, he felt himself relax more, turning on his side and taking his sister hands in his. He stared at her thinking back to the many times he would crawl into her bed as a kid, too anxious to go to school. She would let him stay with her until he was ready to get up, more often than not making her late for her own classes. He could still remember her patting him on the head, eyes half closed and murmuring _I gotcha, lil’ bro_.

He squeezed her hand once, slowly sitting up. Across from him, he could see Minako-sensei sprawled out on the sofa, Masumi-san slumped over in the armchair. Looking to his left, he wasn’t even surprised to see Phichit, Chris and Viktor crammed together into the other bed. They were all at least partially or fully clothed so Yuuri considered that a success.

He found his phone wedged between the headboard and the mattress, battery nearly dead. Multiple messages, notifications, and missed calls flashed back at him, majority of them of course from Celestino. The last message his coach sent him just said, “Don’t miss morning practice.” Yuuri looked at the time glad that he somehow managed to wake up early enough. He quietly crawled out of bed, tucking his sister in, before going to the bathroom to take a shower. When he came out, everybody was still asleep except Mari.

He found her wrapped in a hotel robe, standing bare feet outside on the balcony, a cigarette in hand, gaze fixed at a far-away point on the horizon.

“Hey,” she said when he opened the balcony door.

“Hey,” he croaked back, stepping out and closing the door behind him as to not disturb the rest of his temporary roommates. His sister looked at him with a tiny smirk.

“Do you remember anything from last night?”

“Vaguely.” He remembered going out to eat and drink before hitting a karaoke joint. His throat hurt as if he had been screaming his head out the whole night.

“I find it funny that you managed to inherit dad’s drinking habits. Want me to tell you what happened?”

He shook his head, rubbing his arms. “If it’s embarrassing, absolutely not.”

She took a drag out of her cigarette. “Suit yourself. I’m sure Phichit can show you the videos later.”

He looked into the distance, watching the sea.

“I like him,” his sister told him, snuffing the cigarette against the balcony rail, stuffing the butt into an empty beer can, one of many that he’d just noticed were strewn around the balcony.

“Huh?”

“Viktor. You should bring him home next time you visit.”

Yuuri blushed but didn’t move to hide the smile on his face.

“I think dad and mom would like him too.”

“Thank you for coming, Mari- _neechan_. It helped—having you here.”

She looked at him with her piercing gaze, expression softening, a smile playing at the corner of her lips. “Detroit changed you…you’re more vocal. Confident. I’m glad.”

He thought back to the last six years, scenes flashing in front of his eyes. He thought of Phichit’s relentless positivism, and their small apartment with three hamsters. He thought of coach Celestino always standing at the rink-side, shouting encouragements and advice.

He looked at his sister, thinking of Hasetsu, thinking of their parents, the hour long calls with Yuu-chan, and how he could feel Minako-sensei’s influence whenever he danced.

He thought of Otabek and his blink-and-you-miss smiles, Yura’s aggressive caring, Makkachin’s doggy kisses and Potya’s purrs. He thought of Viktor’s laugh, and Viktor’s smile, and Viktor’s voice. Of him reaching out and Viktor reaching back.

“I guess I finally realized I’m more loved than I thought I was.”

Mari stared at him incredulously for a beat, before shaking her head.

“Unbelievable,” she pulled him in by the shoulder. “If you start forgetting, let us know so we can remind you.”

He nodded but thought he didn’t think he would need the reminders. Maybe not anymore.

* * *

 

After ignoring another call from Celestino, no doubt asking if they were on the way, Yuuri shook Phichit awake. The Thai woke up groaning, not at all put off to be waking up between two men. In fact once he realized their position, he pulled out his phone to take a selfie, throwing up a peace sign. He slid off of the bed, trotting away to the bathroom without much more prodding.

Yuuri’s eyes slid over to Viktor who dragged himself up for a second, eyes still shut close. Yuuri’s heart was ready to burst.

“Yuuri? Where are you going?”

“Practice. It’s for the gala,” Yuuri said, all the while thinking Viktor looked adorable with rumpled hair. He catalogued that look for later perusal.

“Hmmm, have fun,” the other man said, plopping down.

“Chris?” Yuuri shook the Swiss by his shoulder.

The Swiss skater whined into his pillow. “Leave me alone. My practice slot is later.”

On the other side of the room Mari was trying to shake Minako awake without much success. His ballet instructor didn’t so much as twitched, still asleep like a rock.

“I’ll make sure they’re all presentable,” she told him.

“If Chris isn’t up by then, kick him out in an hour, okay?”

“I heard that you little devil,” the Swiss skater mumbled from his position.

Masumi-san startled awake with a half-snore, looking confusedly around. He stood up, stumbled his way to Phichit’s bed, squeezing in between Viktor and Chris. Chris’s arm went around him and they both fell asleep again. Yuuri’s lips twitched in amusement.

Phichit came out of the bathroom looking surprisingly awake and refreshed.

“Ready to go?” he asked, picking up both of their gym bags.

On the way to the ice rink, they inhaled their granola bars in record time.

 “Last night was wild! Let’s do it again soon,” Phichit said, knocking him with his shoulder.

“Did anything happen?”

“Define ‘anything’.”

“Phichit...”

“Nothing bad happened, I promise. We kept our word to Ciao Ciao.”

Yuri mulled that over, nodding. It couldn’t have been that bad then.

 “I can show you the videos when you feel ready.” Phichit said with a grin. “Just so you know, you had a lot of fun. And I mean _a lot!_ ”

Arriving at the venue and waving their passes to the guards, Phichit turned to him. “Will you finally tell me what you’re doing for your exhibition, mister gold medal?”

“An old skate. Boring stuff.”

“I can’t believe this. I thought we were friends.”

“We _are._ That’s why I agreed to do your EX with you.”

“Still think it was a stroke of genius on my part. Do you think he will like it?”

“He’s probably going to curse us out first but secretly love it.”

Celestino was waiting for them at the rink-side, a cup of coffee in his hand. Yuuri thought they would get another lecture about the virtue of being on time but their coach simply said, “You could have invited me yesterday, you know?”

“You knew where we were. You could have come,” Phichit said, moving to put on his skates. “Minako even taught us some of her ballet moves.”

“Unlike you two, I am a responsible adult and had to deal with the fall out of the three GPF medalists disappearing before the end banquet.”

“I have pictures.”

“Show me.” Phichit and Celestino spent the next thirty minutes looking through Phichit’s iPhone reel. Yuuri tried very hard not to show that he was also curious. He finished his warm up on the side, doing a mental run through of his own EX. He only had to rewatch the routine a few times, muscle memory quickly taking over when he first tried it out on the ice with Celestino. They made a few small changes, mostly in the jump components, but he couldn’t wait to skate it in front of everybody, especially Phichit.

“ _Cara Mia_ , Yuuri,” his coach looked at him with a mix of horror, exasperation, and amusement.

“What? What’s going on?” Yuuri straightened up from stretching his hamstrings.

Phichit snickered. “Let’s just say those pole dancing classes came in really useful last night.”

_Pole dancing?  Did Phichit just say pole dancing?!_

* * *

 

After their practice session, Yuuri and Phichit were surprised to see coach Plisetsky standing next to Celestino. He looked as intimidating as ever.

“Congratulation on your medals.”

“Thank you, coach Plisetsky,” they both said.

“I couldn’t help but recognize the routines you were dancing.”

“It’s Phichit’s exhibition skate,” Yuuri answered. At coach Plisetsky’s piercing gaze, Yuuri’s eyes darted between Phichit and Celestino, the Italian seemingly comfortable in letting them deal with this on their own. It was rare, but skaters did use old routines, whether their own or somebody else’s for their exhibitions. Yuuri wondered, maybe a little bit too late at this point, if maybe they should have run their idea by either Yura or Nikolai before actually going ahead and creating a de facto paired cover of his old routines.

“Yura is our friend.” Phichit piped up, Nikolai’s gaze moving to him. “He’s been helping me for the past few months. I wanted to do this as a gift to him. But if you’re not fine with it, we can still scrap this idea and go back to my old EX.”

Yuuri shook his friend by his arm, but Phichit didn’t look away from the older Russian man whose expression didn’t so much as changed. What seemed like an eternity later, the man’s expression softened into something grandfatherly. Yuuri could glimpse some of Yura in him.

“You do what you do,” he finally said with a shrug, exchanging a weird look with Celestino who also just shrugged in response. The Russian coach took out his phone from his pocket.

“Can we take a picture together? I would like to send it to my Yuratchka.”

Celestino took a photo of the three of them after which he ushered all of them into a selfie. Yuuri thought it was the most bizarre experience ever, but he still smiled, thinking about the face that the Russian Yuri would make if his grandpa sent him their photo. Coach Plisetsky left them with a parting nod.

Celestino turned to them.

“I think you two will be okay. Go rest. Yuuri, are you still fine with your exhibition?”

“Yes, coach.”

“Wait, Ciao Ciao! You know what he’s doing? Tell me!”

“You’ll find out later.”

“Yuuri? Ciao Ciao?!” the two of them ignored the Thai skater, walking back to the locker rooms.

“That’s so unfair!” Phichit shouted after them.

* * *

  

> _plisetsky.coachofficial posted a picture_
> 
> [photo of Yuuri, Phichit and coach Plisetsky standing next to each other. Yuuri and Phichit are smiling stiffly, hands up in a peace sign.]
> 
> With the gold and bronze medalists of the 2014 GP series @cialdini.coachofficial
> 
> #katsuki Yuuri #phichit Chulanont #detroit skating fam #yuri plisetsky
> 
> **liked by mila.babicheva** , **v-nikiforov** and **998 others**
> 
> **yuri-plisetsky:** _deda_ you’re using the hashtags wrong. Ask @mila.babicheva to show you again
> 
> **yuri-plisetsky:** @katsuki-yuu @phichit+chu also wtf is wrong with your faces
> 
> **v-nikiforov** so cute!

* * *

 

Exhibition Galas were a much beloved part of any skating events. With the pressure of the competition behind them, the skaters allowed themselves to relax and have fun, dazzling with their performances that ranged from entertaining to plain funny.

Chris was slated to perform before the gold medalists in pair skating. As far as his programs went, his EX was really tame, meaning he was fully clothed and refrained from doing oversexualized gestures. He danced to a catchy jazz song [_Take Five_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GZ_JYfYSO-c), incorporating both jazz dance moves and tap dancing. The American pair skaters enchanted everybody with a beautiful waltz to the song [_Once Upon a December_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zSCHQBlnluA), which Yuuri thought was very fitting for the occasion. After that Mila Babicheva, the silver medalist in women’s singles, skated her EX to Taylor Swift’s-[ _Shake it Off_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qb0pVF_wW9w) to the cheering of the audience, Phichit’s definitely being the loudest ( _My type of girl!)._

Yuuri and Phichit started preparing for their turn. People looked over at them with curiosity, probably because of their matching outfits, simple white v-neck t-shirts, black pants, black fingerless gloves, and purple leather jackets. Yuuri double checked that his pair of sunglasses was still securely inside the pocket.

Phichit sent him a smile, before skating out, doing a small circle around the ice, stopping in the middle of the rink. Celestino brought out Yuuri’s EX props, Yuuri smiling at him gratefully. He turned his eyes back to Phichit.

_Ladies and Gentlemen, from Thailand, men’s singles bronze medalist, Phichit Chulanont! He will be skating his exhibition to[ “The Lilac Fairy.” ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DOrO9YIubts) _

The song started with the gentle, slow sound of the violins, Phichit moving gracefully with them. The music soon picked up, joined by the rhythmic sound of a tambourine to which Phichit spun and jumped in time with. The song that was playing had a special meaning for them, Yuri Plisetsky having won his first and last Junior World Championship title performing his Short Program to it. They were initially going to simply recreate Yura’s routine but decided to change it up, starting with Phichit’s introduction where Yuuri choreographed the movements to match the actual ballet routine.

The noise from the audience picked up when in one of the circuits, Phichit spun around extending a hand towards the rink entrance and Yuuri skated out as if to reach back. They skated alongside each other, executing spins and jumps in sync, and Yuuri couldn’t help the smile on his face thinking back to the many times he did the exact same thing with Yuu-chan.

Her childish voice exclaiming “And Yuri would go like this!” resounded in his mind.

Phichit wanted to use the original theme from the ballet rather than the longer, remixed version that Yuri had used in his SP. But that meant that they were about one and half minute short on the exhibition length which then gave Phichit an idea on how to make up for it.

The music suddenly cut off with a [screech](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KGijVRJMO3I), going into sharp guitar riffs and drums, Phichit and Yuuri spinning around, stopping abruptly back to back, pulling out their sunglasses from their pockets. The audience screamed.

Yuuri smirked at that, skating away, going into a dead drop transitioning into a combination spin, seeing Phichit doing the same from his periphery vision.  Yuuri was pretty sure somebody shouted _Marry me_ , but he couldn’t be sure.

_What a surprise! The previous song transitioned into "Welcome to the Madness", first used in an exhibition skate by the Junior World Champion, Yuri Plisetsky. Are Phichit Chulanont and Yuuri Katsuki paying a tribute to the retired figure skater?_

So he had to admit Phichit sometimes had really good ideas, letting the screaming of the singer wash over him, feeling a cathartic release. It helped that Yuuri knew both Yura’s Lilac Fairy and the Welcome to the Madness routine like the back of his hands, only needing a small refresher before getting the moves right. They'd cut out some parts of the routines, meshing together the rest, frankly keeping only the more entertaining parts, like the Russian split, which he executed while Phichit headbanged his way across the rink while playing on an air guitar. They both took off their sunglasses, chucking them into the audience.

As the song and screams reached their crescendo, Yuuri and Phichit skated to two opposite sides of the rink, spinning around before going straight into one knee slide across the ice, getting up in the center before turning around “shooting” each other with their finger guns, falling down to the ice in time with the final notes of the song. The audience literally exploded, the cheering around them deafening.

“We did it! Yuuri, we really did it!” Phichit jumped, hugging him when they met in the center of the ice. Yuuri tried to catch his breath but he was helpless to the laughs that kept escaping him. “Thank you so much for doing this with me!”

“You’re welcome,” they skated back to the rink entrance, still laughing.  Yuuri leaned against the wall, stretching out his lower back. Looking up he saw coach Plisetsky smiling at them. Mila was jumping up and down from excitement, talking animatedly into her phone. She waved when she saw he was looking in her direction. He waved back with a grin. Celestino turned to Yuuri.

“Ready?” he asked, simultaneously stopping a confused Phichit from putting his skate guards on.

Phichit looked curiously as Celestino set down a small plastic gold crown on the rink wall, draping a red and gold shawl over the rail. Yuuri shrugged off his jacket, pulling a blue with silver lining scarf over his neck and adjusting it over one shoulder. Celestino clasped hands with him.

_And now, the moment you have all been waiting for. Taking to the ice is Japan’s...Yuuri Katsuki!_

Yuuri skated a small circuit around the ice, waving at the audience, but unlike Phichit who started from the middle he stopped closer to the rink entrance. He was close enough to even catch Phichit’s shout of surprise at hearing the familiar sound of _Shall We Skate_ being played over the loudspeakers, quickly drowned out by the audience’s cheering. Yuuri swept his hands above his head exactly like Phichit did a few days ago for his Short Program. At the lyrics “People sing royal anthem, Your Majesty,” Yuuri spun around and bowed in front of Phichit, grinning at his friend’s gaping expression.

He skated backwards, waving his friend over on the ice. Celestino put the crown on Phichit’s head, throwing the scarf over his shoulder for him, pushing him lightly onto the ice. Phichit skated up to Yuuri in a half daze.

“What the hell? What the actual hell?” he hissed at him, adjusting his shawl.

Yuuri stood there grinning, clapping his hands above his head in rhythm with the song, the audience responding to him easily.

He started skating the beloved routine from the movie “The King and the Skater” in which Arthur teaches his Majesty how to skate for the first time. It was clear to everyone watching that Phichit did not know beforehand that he was going to be performing, his face still frozen in a look of shock but body going mechanically through the movements.

Yuuri in turn laughed, reminded of the many times the roles were reversed, Phichit dancing enthusiastically around him while Yuuri reluctantly followed. Soon enough though Phichit shook off his shock, throwing himself into the dance, doing exaggerated moves in time with the music and lyrics. He would pretend to flail and trip, Yuuri always there to catch him, exactly like it was in the movie.

 _Now take my hands, come on! (Your majesty!)_  
Right, Left··· slow down···  
Yes! Yes, you did it !! (Wow!)

Yuuri had to admit he had his brilliant moments as well, looking fondly over to Phichit who was smiling widely while dancing next to him. Afterwards, standing on the ice rink, taking his bows with Phichit at his side, Yuuri thought of the future. He didn’t know what it held in store for him. There were still the nationals, four continents, World’s.  He didn’t know how long he would continue to skate before he had to retire. There was his talk with Viktor.

But in this particular moment, standing in front of everybody, chest heaving from exertion, the thrill of performing not yet gone from his body, Yuuri smiled through his tears for the umpteenth time in the past few days.

They were stars. As bright as ever.

* * *

 

> _v-nikiforov posted a video_
> 
> [video of Phichit and Yuuri transitioning from The Lilac Fairy routine to Welcome to the Madness routine to the adoring screams of the audience ]
> 
> From angels to devils! @katsuki-yuu and @phichit+chu, gold and bronze GPF medalists perform Yuri Plisetsky’s old routines The Lilac Fairy and Welcome to the Madness
> 
> #katsukiyuuri #phichitchulanont #gpfinal #yuriplisetsky #shallweskate #diditsuddenlygethotinsidethisroom?
> 
> liked by **katsuki_mari, minako-okukawa** and **1,394 others**
> 
> **yuri-plisetsky** WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK @phichit+chu @katsuki-yuu
> 
> **phichit+chu** we love you  <3 <3 <3
> 
> **otabek-altin** [clapping emoji]
> 
>  
> 
> _cialdini.coachofficial posted a picture_
> 
> [picture of Yuuri and Phichit doing the _Shall We Skate_ routine, Phichit falling backwards, Yuuri catching him from behind]
> 
> They grow up so fast #proudcoach #detroitfam #katsukiyuuri #phichitchulanont
> 
> liked by **katsuki-yuu, phichit+chu** and **2,301 others**
> 
> **phichit+chu** we love you too, Ciao Ciao
> 
> **katsuki-yuu** <3

* * *

 

**yuri-plisetsky**

Today, 3:30 PM

_Katsudon_

You still have time to back out

Save yourself

Are you sure you really want this mess?

[video of Viktor buried under a pile of his own clothes, whining really loudly in Russian. Yuri says something harsh to him that has him sit up straight with a scandalized face. Makkachin jumps into the frame to slobber over his face, causing the Russian to laugh]

That’s _my_ mess now

Ugh gross both of you

Have fun tonight

<3

* * *

 

         Viktor: I’m finished! Come downstairs when you’re ready! <3 I left the front door open.

         Yuuri: Ok give me 5

“Phichit, I’ll be back later,” Yuuri shouted, putting on his shoes.

“Wait! Let me take a picture of you,” Phichit shrieked running out of his bedroom.

Yuuri tolerated Phichit’s fussing over his clothes and hair, and dutifully posed for a few photos.

“I wonder if this is how parents feel when they send their kids to prom,” Phichit said, wiping away a fake tear. He sat down on the sofa to look over his pictures, no doubt to send them to his sis and his parents.

Yuuri worried the bottom of his sweater. “But really. How do I look?”

“Listen, I chose that outfit for you. Of course you look nice. The only way Viktor wouldn’t like it is because he’d prefer you without your clothes on—“ Yuuri snatched a pillow from the sofa and hit Phichit over the head with it, cutting him off.

“Have fun on your date.”

“It’s not a…” Yuuri said, trailing off. “Nevermind, it’s a date. I’ll see you later.”

Yuuri grabbed his coat and a wrapped square box from the table. He threw open the door, screeching to a halt. Mrs. Smith was currently walking down the stairs, blocking his way. He quietly closed his door, letting out a sigh.

“Good evening, Mrs. Smith.”

“Yuuri, dear. Good evening. Oh, you look so nice.” He rubbed at his neck smiling shyly, following her at a slower pace.

“Is it tonight?” Mrs. Smith stopped to turn around and ask him. Yuuri tried not to scream.

“I’m sorry, what’s tonight?”

“Your date with Viktor, of course!” she asked him with a smile.

“I …How do you even know about it?”

“That’s all he’s been talking about since he came back,” she chuckled, resuming her trek down the stairs

Yuuri wondered since when did Viktor know Mrs. Smith in order for them to talk about their date. Maybe he could bring that up during dinner. He had a whole mental list of topics he could pull from if _Awkward Yuuri_ decided to rear his head today.

“Well—have fun, dear,” she said when they reached the foyer 10,000 years later, patting him on the arm.

“Thank you! Good night, Mrs. Smith.”

Yuuri stepped out of the apartment into the streets. It was a freezing evening, snow slowly piling up on the road and the sidewalk. He shrugged on his coat, stuffing Viktor’s gift inside one of the pockets. He would have to make sure to offer to shovel the sidewalk for the apartment, maybe roping Phichit into helping him as well. The lights were off inside the bakery. Recalling Viktor’s text message, Yuuri walked up to the door and opened it without trouble, the chime above ringing a welcoming sound.

He let his eyes adjust to the dark, quickly noticing that there was some light streaming through the kitchen door. Not even a second later, it swung open, Viktor appearing in the frame, a dark imposing figure backlit by the lights from the other room. In contrast, his voice was bright and cheerful.

“Yuuri! I thought I heard the chime. Come on in!”

“Sorry, I’m late.”

“Don’t be silly, you aren’t,” Viktor lifted up the counter flap for Yuuri to squeeze under. He ended up standing chest to chest with the other man.

“Oh, hello there,” he blurted out.

“Hello,” Viktor answered with a smile. “Fancy bumping into you here.”

“What’s the plan for tonight?” Yuuri asked.

“Eating and talking?” the Russian answered, holding the door for him.

“Eating and talking sounds great,” Yuuri said, taking his first step inside the kitchen. A large, tall stainless steel island took up most of the space in the middle of the room, with a few metal racks and two industrial baking ovens behind it. Before Yuuri could take in the rest of the kitchen, a nostalgic and mouth-watering smell hit his nose, rooting him to the spot.

 _Oh. My. God. It can’t be_ , Yuuri thought in disbelief.

“Come on, sit down, Yuuri!” Viktor pulled out a bar stool next to the kitchen island for him. Yuuri’s eyes swept over the counter where Viktor had set out two pairs of chopsticks next to napkins folded up into fans, just like they do in fancy restaurants. There was even a small vase of flowers. Yuuri also eyed the empty wine glasses and a glass decanter filled with what he was sure was water and not alcohol.

“What’s that smell?” he asked, sitting down, absentmindedly handing over his coat to Viktor who set it down on one of the metal racks.  Yuuri reached out to the fancy decanter, pouring the liquid into the empty glasses.

“Aha! I’m glad you asked.” Yuuri watched as Viktor moved to the counter next to the stove, bringing over two large lidded bowls. “Go on, open it.”

Yuuri glanced between Viktor’s excited face and the bowl, finally lifting up the cover. He nearly teared up at the sight of a perfect looking pork cutlet bowl. He took a deep breath, luxuriating in the familiar smell of his favorite dish. _What did I do to deserve this man_ , Yuuri wondered. He had to take a moment to control his urge to jump on Viktor and never let go.

“Viktor…this is the best present ever,” Yuuri managed to choke out.

“Wait, that’s not your present. This is just your regular celebratory _katsudon_ ,” Viktor said, passing him the paper bag that was previously on the table. “Here is your Christmas gift.”

“Are we doing the gift exchanges now?”

“Might as well, right?”

Yuuri quickly ran up to the metal rack , taking out the box from his coat pocket, sliding it over to Viktor. He went out with Mari on their last day in Barcelona, glad that they got to spend some time together, just the two of them. Walking around the city they stumbled upon a Christmas Market, where Mari teasingly pointed out a jewelry store. She was genuinely surprised when he went inside to look for the perfect gift for Viktor.

“You go first.”

Yuuri reached inside the bag, his hand meeting a very soft material. His eyes went to Viktor, who was watching Yuuri expectantly. At his nod, Yuuri pulled out a long scarf in a deep navy color. He grinned, wrapping it around his neck.

“You’re not getting back your other scarf. It’s mine now,” Viktor said.

“Really now.”

“I thought I’d at least be a decent person and replace it for you.”

Yuuri looked down at the scarf, running his hand over the soft material. He reluctantly took it off after a minute, folding it up and putting it back inside the bag.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you!”

Viktor nodded with a pleased expression. He turned to his own gift, tearing off the wrapping paper before opening up the box. He let out a gasp. Inside was pair of gold cuff links, each engraved with a snowflake design with a small diamond inset in the center.

Yuuri fidgeted in his seat. “In case you ever have to go to the boring events again. You can wear those and think of me.”

“Yuuri…I don’t need reminders to think of you but these are beautiful. Thank you,” Viktor pulled one out, attaching it to the cuff of his shirt. Yuuri took the other, putting it on for him on his right sleeve. Viktor beamed at the gesture, his eyes shining. Yuuri had to stop the strong urge to hug him and not let go.

“Okay! Now that that’s done—can we eat? Because the _katsudon_ smell is killing me.” Yuuri excitedly took his first bite out of the pork cutlet bowl, Viktor watching him all the way. He froze, staring at the bowl in shock.

“What—what is this?” he whispered to himself. He couldn’t believe it. It was honestly as good as the one he ate at home.

Pleased with his reaction, Viktor picked up his chopsticks. “Do you like it? I think I finally got the sauce right,”

Yuuri unfroze, shoveling the food into his mouth.

“Viktor! This is as close to perfect as it can get,” he moaned out around a piece of pork. He should probably tone it down a little, but the food was just that good.

“Mhhhhmmmm! God, this is so amazing,” he said again, closing his eyes in bliss. When he opened them Viktor was staring at him with his mouth half-open, a piece of the pork cutlet falling from his chopsticks back into the bowl. Yuuri cocked his head to the side in confusion before feeling himself flush. He sure must make a terribly embarrassing sight with his face stuffed with rice and the meat. He swallowed his food, dabbing the napkin at his mouth. Glancing back he watched with interest as Viktor flushed red under his gaze, going back to his food.

They ate in a companionable silence for a while, Yuuri reaching something like enlightenment. He could hardly believe it but he was sure that the bowl of rice in front of him was fit to be served to gods and angels. It was actually really hard to get the perfect balance between the juiciness and warmth of the egg and the crispiness of the pork cutlet, yet here it was. Viktor’s sauce was also on point, being not too salty or too bland, beautifully meshing with the rice.

“ _Marry me,”_ Yuuri breathed out after taking another big bite, his hands clenching around his chopsticks.

“Pardon me?” Viktor asked, a grain of rice stuck to the corner of his lips, gazing at Yuuri in confusion.

“What?” Yuuri asked back before the last five seconds rewound in his mind, all thoughts screeching to a halt. He felt all the blood rush away from his face. Did he—did he just say what he thinks he said? Did he really say it out loud?

“What does _ke-kon shi—shyo,_ mean? Actually, never mind, I totally butchered that, didn’t I?” Viktor asked him with a sheepish grin.

He did say it. Yuuri was mortified.

“Ne-never mind what that means,” someone must still love him up there if he said that in Japanese.

Viktor didn’t look convinced but he seemed to let it go. They finished the rest of the pork cutlet bowls chatting about inane things, Viktor telling him about his day and making Yuuri recall his in great detail. Once they were done eating, Yuuri stood up and moved to grab the empty dishes but Viktor snatched them away, glaring at him until he sat back down. Shaking off the initial shock, Yuuri laughed, suddenly reminded of Yura. They really were related, weren’t they? Yuuri stared at Viktor’s back while the other man was washing the dishes, admiring the domesticity of the scene. He really could get used to it. He walked up to Viktor, leaning against the counter next to the sink.

“So, Viktor…What would you like me to be to you?” turnabout was a fair game, Yuuri figured. At Viktor’s confused gaze, he added.

“A father figure? Brother? Confidant? Personal chef? I make a mean Pad-Thai according to Phichit.”

Viktor let out a whine. “Yuuri, don’t tease. I panicked, okay? I was planning on saying something else, but those words just tumbled out.” Yuuri chuckled letting the man finish washing the dishes in silence.

They made their way back to the kitchen island.

Yuuri excitedly pulled out his new scarf, wrapping it around his neck, marveling again at how soft it felt. Viktor adjusted it for him, a gentle smile on his face. His hands slid down to grasp Yuuri’s.

“You didn’t finish the rest.”

“Huh?”

“The rest of the words. You didn’t finish all of them.” It took him a second to comprehend Viktor’s words but when he did, Yuuri felt himself flush.

“Oh,” Yuuri’s confidence suddenly escaped him. He looked down at where Viktor’s hands were covering his.

“How about a lover? Or a boyfriend?” he asked quietly, taking courage from the warm touch.

Viktor squeezed his hands, taking in a shuddering breath. “I don’t want you to be anything but yourself,” he repeated back Yuuri’s words to him.

“Just Yuuri…he isn’t…he isn’t really that interesting.”

“Well, ‘just Yuuri’ can be his uninteresting self next to ‘just Viktor’ just fine.”

“That’s a lot of ‘justs’ in one sentence….” Yuuri said, but he couldn’t contain his smile. Something that Viktor said before suddenly caught up with him. “So what were you going to tell me?”

“Hm?”

“You said you were planning on telling me something else.” Viktor’s face flushed at that. Yuuri pouted when the other man let go of his hands.

“Oh, I don’t think it matters that much anymore. I got what I wanted.”

“If you’d rushed to my place with half buttoned up shirt, maybe it was important enough to tell me.”

“I…”

“Viktor, don’t make me pull the ‘I’m your boyfriend’ card.”

“Boyfriend?!” Viktor sounded genuinely surprised.

“Aren’t we?” Yuuri tried not to be offended.

“I don’t know. I like the sound of Yuuri, my personal Pad-Thai chef.”

“Only if you’re my personal chocolate chip cookie maker.”

“Deal…Oh, okay…What would you say if I told you that…wehavetechnicallymaybemetbefore?” Viktor rushed out his confession in one breath.

“What?” Yuuri definitely didn’t expect that. With some more prodding, Viktor haltingly started recalling their first meeting.

“A few years ago I had some business in South Korea. Coincidentally, the GPF was going on at the same time in Seoul…”

“GPF? Do you mean…the one in 2008?”

Viktor nodded. “Since I was already there, Chris managed to get me last minute tickets to get into the arena.”

Yuuri thought back to that year. It was his final year in the Junior division. And although he qualified for the Final, he managed to bomb it pretty spectacularly, nerves getting the better of him. Like an amateur. His ears burned from embarrassment just thinking about his failure.  He let Viktor continue.

“I…I watched your performance“—Yuuri covered his face in embarrassment–“I’ve admired you for a while, to be honest. Especially after your Lohengrin program—“

Yuuri interrupted him with a muffled groan.

“Yuuri,” Viktor scolded him, pulling his hands away from his face. “Don’t bring yourself down like this.”

“I…I’m sorry.”

Viktor nodded, sitting up straight again but not letting go of his hands.

“Where was I? Oh, right. I watched your programs, and I know you flubbed a lot of your jumps--”

“You mean all of them.”

“Shush, you flubbed your jumps but your performance was still beautiful.

“To be honest, I don’t remember much from that day.”

“I figured…”

“So you saw me at the GPF. But it’s not like we met, right? I would have remembered if we did…”

Viktor looked pained at that. “Sorry, I’m not done yet. I don’t know if you remember but Chris’s Senior GPF didn’t go that well either.” At Yuuri’s nod, Viktor continued, “I had to go to a business meeting but I wanted to try and talk to him before leaving. On the way out though…I saw you. And I thought, hey how about I try talking to you, maybe ask for an autograph, tell you not to be discouraged or something like that.”

Yuuri felt dread settle at the bottom of his stomach. He didn’t remember much from that day but he definitely could recall he wasn’t in the best mental space. He could actually imagine quite well what must have happened afterwards. Celestino and Phichit often scolded him for how he acted in public, Celestino calling him “stand-offish,” Phichit calling him “kind-of-an-asshole.”

“So I ran up to you and tried asking you and…”

“And?”

“Well, you kinda blew me off?” Viktor chuckled mirthlessly, eyes shadowed in the memory. It pained Yuuri just to look at him.

“Viktor…”

“And I thought that was going to be it—”

“Wait! There is more?”

Viktor smiled at that, his eyes crinkling. “I haven’t told you how you stole my heart yet.”

“Stole your…heart?”

“Yes Mr. Katsuki. My heart…Oh, Yuuri, don’t make that face. I was kidding…but I can tell you it was a close thing. So I went back to my hotel after my meeting, ready to wallow in self-pity, when Chris drunk dialed me. He told me to go karaoke with him. And when I finally found him, you were there too."

“Oh no…”

“It wasn’t that bad! I promise. So yeah, you were both trashed and singing Celine Dion. And you fought Chris for the karaoke machine to show us Arashi dance routines. And then you made me sing as well. And the more we sang and danced together the more I felt myself falling. But you obviously didn’t really remember much from that night, right?”

“I’m so—“

“I didn’t tell you this to make you feel bad. It’s just how it was. The past is the past! Anyway, don’t worry. I was a pretty forgettable person—“

“Viktor,” Yuuri said deathly serious. “I could walk the face of the Earth and not find anybody as special as you.”

“Oh,” Viktor looked shell-shocked at the declaration, expression quickly changing to that of a barely contained happiness.

“Since I already feel bad about this whole situation, is there anything else you want to add, anything else that happened?” Yuuri asked, already wincing at what was to come.

“You kept forgetting my name.”

Yuuri groaned, mortified.

“I remember you called me Niki Niliforov? Oh! And then you tried to pole dance!”

At that point Yuuri put his face back into his hands, hoping the floor would swallow him up.

“I have to say you really improved since then,” Viktor laughed lightly. Yuuri didn’t deserve this man. Drunk Yuuri at least had an excuse, but his younger self had no right to treat him so disrespectfully, depressed or not.

“Viktor….I’m _so_ sorry. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way. Please, can you forgive me?”

“I guess I could try,” Viktor said, trying for a nonchalant tone. “You will have to make it up to me though. Oh! I can think of at least one thing you could do right this moment,” he added, tapping a finger to his lips.

“Anything,” Yuuri said suddenly out of breath.

Viktor eyes gleamed. He leaned in closer, Yuuri’s eyes inevitably drawn to the other man’s slightly parted lips. Yuuri’s eyes fluttered shut, thinking that if this was Viktor asking for a kiss in a very roundabout way, he could at least deliver. He was a man on a mission. But then the baker straightened up, brandishing his phone between them with a bright grin.

“Let’s take a selfie!”

Yuuri’s mind screeched to a halt, his eyes snapping open. _Huh?_

"Excuse me, what?” he said out loud.

Viktor scooted over with his chair, closing the distance between them, wrapping one arm around Yuuri’s waist and nearly pulling him onto his lap.

“We have to celebrate our official boyfriend statuses. Besides, how else can I show the world that I’m yours and that you’re off the market?”

“You’re such a dork,” Yuuri said with no small amount of fondness, letting himself relax in Viktor’s hold.

“On three, okay? I’m doing burst shots.” When Viktor finished counting to three, Yuuri leaned in, kissing him on the cheek.

Viktor’s surprised gasp was well worth it. The silver haired man turned towards him, shock and delight warring over on his face, before he tackled him into a hug. There was a moment of confusion, shouts escaping both of them as their bar stools wobbled precariously, before toppling over. Yuuri hit the floor with a thud, his breath punched out of him, Viktor managing to cushion his head with his hands.  They stared at each other in shock, Yuuri on his back, Viktor staring down at him from above.

“Yuuri! I’m so sorry! Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?!” the Russian rushed out.

Yuuri was overcome with laughter. If he hadn’t already been on the floor, he would have probably fallen off of his stool anyway. “Both you and Makkachin…You’re so—“ he couldn’t even finish the sentence. “Please tell me you planned this?”

“Well…It was the only thing I could think of to surprise you,” Viktor said, trying to keep a serious expression, the effect broken by his twitching lips.

“It worked,” Yuuri said, warmth coursing through his body. “You know what else you can do to surprise me?” he asked, raising his hand to slide it behind Viktor’s neck, gently pulling him in.

“Show me,” Viktor whispered, already leaning down, his eyes fluttering shut, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

Like anything involving Viktor, they met somewhere in the middle.

Their kiss started gentle, halting, reminding Yuuri of a question and an answer. When Yuuri tried to lean back to catch his breath, Viktor’s lips chased his, deepening the kiss into something warmer, an offer or a promise. They kissed until Yuuri wasn’t sure where he ended and Viktor began, bodies, hands, kisses melding together like pieces of a puzzle. They had to stop after a while to catch their breaths, Viktor leaning his forehead against Yuuri’s, eyes still closed.

Yuuri brushed a hand over the other man’s cheek closing the distance between them again.

He smiled against Viktor’s lips, feeling the other man smile back.

He won’t say it out loud. Not yet.

It’s only been two months after all.

But inside his head, Yuuri could easily admit that Katsuki Yuuri, a dime-a-dozen skater certified by the JSF, was completely and utterly in love with Viktor Nikiforov.

* * *

  

> _v-nikiforov posted a picture_
> 
> [picture set: Yuuri kissing a surprised Viktor on his cheek, Viktor looking over to Yuuri with a delighted expression with Yuuri smiling back, a blurry photo of the two of them disappearing from the frame after Viktor tackled them to the ground]
> 
> With the champion of my heart <3 @katsuki-yuu #bf
> 
> liked by **phichit+chu, yuri-plisetsky** _and **5,345 others**_
> 
> **yuri-plisetsky** : gross!
> 
> **yuri-plisetsky** : also congrats, take that mess off of our hands @katsuki-yuu
> 
> **otabek-altin** : [clapping emoji]
> 
> **phichit+chu** : too pure
> 
> **christophe.gc** : dorks, both of them
> 
> **katsuki_mari:** now you definitely need to bring him home
> 
> **minako-okukawa** : oh my heart
> 
> **katsuki-yuu** :  #mymess  @yuri-plisetsky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Kekkon shiyou_ [Japn.] – means “Let’s get married”. (please correct me if I’m wrong). I was looking for a casual proposal that Yuuri could possibly utter in the throes of passion while eating katsudon and that’s all I could come up with. Debated on Yuuri say kekkon shitai– I want to marry you.
> 
> As a side note, in canon universe, Viktor won his gold Junior World Championship medal with his Lilac Fairy routine. Listening to those 10 seconds where Yuuko talks about it in episode 1, you can actually hear a little bit of the violin strings in the background, and it totally doesn't sound like the song I linked to at all, even thought it's The Lilac Fairy variation from the Sleeping Beauty. Oh well...I tried. I think Viktor must have used a variation that came from another part of the ballet. I just couldn't find it.
> 
> *screams incoherently into her pillow*
> 
> That’s it, folks. Thank you so much for reading and sticking around till the end.
> 
> Keep an eye out for Viktor’s side of the story and a bunch of one-shots about the following:  
> \- So what happened after the banquet?  
> \- Will they talk more about what happened in Seoul? (yes)  
> \- The story/stories behind Phichit and Yuuri’s “friendnniversaries”  
> I’m not sure how long it’s going to take me to post Viktor’s POV but here are a few things you can expect from his side of the story.  
> \- First chapter will set up the rest of the AU universe, giving an explanation as to why Nikolai Plisetsky is the coach, how Viktor and Yuri are related (they’re cousins), what happened to Yakov, and why exactly is Viktor a pastry chef  
> \- Chubby Viktor!!!  
> \- More Yuri, Otabek, and Chris
> 
> I can’t thank you enough for your encouragements and kind words. I hope this story brought you a little bit of joy! Hope to see you again next ~~level~~ time.


End file.
